What makes photography a strange invention is that its primary raw materials are light and time.
Glamour cannot exist without personal social envy being a common and widespread emotion.
Modern thought has transferred the spectral character of Death to the notion of time itself. Time has become Death triumphant over all.
The camera relieves us of the burden of memory. It surveys us like God, and it surveys for us. Yet no other god has been so cynical, for the camera records in order to forget.
For the artist, drawing is discovery. And that is not just a slick phrase; it is quite literally true.
I actually think of myself as quite a shy person, although I know I give the impression of someone much more confident. I think what I do have is a capacity to listen to the other, even if the other is an opponent. That leads, in all senses of the word, to an engagement.
