Nature Is Never Finished.

One's Mind And The Earth Are In A Constant State Of Erosion, Mental Rivers Wear Away Abstract Banks, Brain Waves Undermine Cliffs Of Thought, Ideas Decompose Into Stones Of Unknowing, And Conceptual Crystallizations Break Apart Into Deposits Of Gritty Reason.

Questions About Form Seem As Hopelessly Inadequate As Questions About Content.

Objects In A Park Suggest Static Repose Rather Than Any Ongoing Dialectic. Parks Are Finished Landscapes For Finished Art .

The Slurbs, Urban Sprawl, And The Infinite Number, Of Housing Developments Of The Postwar Boom Have Contributed To The Architecture Of Entropy.

Noon-day Sunshine Cinema-ized The Site, Turning The Bridge And The River Into An Over-exposed Picture. Photographing It With My Instamatic 400 Was Like Photographing A Photograph. The Sun Became A Monstrous Light-bulb That Projected A Detached Series Of Stills Through My Instamatic Into My Eye.