Finally, there is the accident of words: what wells up when we make space for such occurrence, when we lie on the bed in morning sunlight and bring laptop to lap. I’ve often heard it said, most recently by novelist Monica Ali, that as writers “we’re not at liberty to choose the material, the material chooses us.” Geoff Dyer has noted parallel statements by photographers: “It is the photo that takes you” (Henri Cartier-Bresson), “I don’t press the shutter, the image does” (Arbus), and one from Paul Strand on choosing his subjects: “I don’t… . They choose me.” While I’ve always intuited this about pictures, I was skeptical when it came to words. But I now know it to be true, beyond any doubt, for writing as well.
Notes on Photography
HEAT / 5.5”x8.5”, 32 pages, full color, French-fold with stab binding / Edition of 25 / $20
My summer book and print sale ends tomorrow. After which, the book will be released at the New England Zine Fest (Aug. 16th, Cambridge, MA) and for sale again online afterwards.
"The sky was a dying violet and the houses stood out darkly against it, bulbous liver-colored monstrosities of a uniform ugliness though no two were alike." Flannery O’Connor - Everything That Rises Must Converge
impossible eye @ devil