Photography is an effort to freeze time, to flout that most immutable rule we are governed by: Impermanence.
By freezing spring flowers, I am futilely attempting to dilate time, to hold on to each fleeting ephemeral form and linger over the iced grace that is already beginning to thaw, just now.
Black-eyed susans, frozen clouds, Cathy on the fiddle, and Betty’s bubbling laughter: iced Catskills summer.
Now on view at the Gray Loft Gallery in Oakland, California
I froze my biology textbook into a block of ice and photographed it, hoping to retain the information, which is one way to study.
There is not so much food in my freezer-museum as there are tiny icy canvases filled with frozen Spring. Beauty is another kind of food.
Frozen roses in cracked glass
Iced oleander, scratched fog, frozen fireworks
A child I love gave me this flower, so I sprayed it with mica powder and froze it into a block of ice and photographed it, savoring it like iced nectar.
iced jasmine, gold leaf, textured glass, wonder.
Glass on gold ice on glass
and a radish
