“And you know what’s responsible? It’s dust! The earth doesn’t have a housekeeper to do the dusting. And the dust that falls on it every day remains there. Everything that’s come down to us from the past has been conserved by dust. Right here, look at these piles, in a few weeks a thick layer of dust has formed. […] I always forbade everyone to clean my studios, dust them, not only for fear they would disturb my things, but especially because I always counted on the protection of dust. It’s my ally. I always let it settle where it likes. It’s like a layer of protection. And it’s because I live constantly with dust, in dust, that I prefer to wear gray suits, the only color on which it leaves no trace.” (more here)
[Brassaï, Conversations avec Picasso, Paris, 1964, p.58. +]
Pablo Picasso dans son atelier, 1939 & La main droite de Picasso, 1943
“Fifty-nine-year-old Trish Vickers lost her eyesight to diabetes seven years ago. With an imagination that “runs riot,” Vickers, began writing a book in long hand. Her son Simon would come over once a week to read her work back to her. But during one visit last year, Simon realized that 26 pages his mother thought she’d written were totally blank. The ink had run out. […] A few weeks later, they presented the manuscript back to her. Working during their spare time, staff at the police station had used a combination of bright lights to reveal the indentations made by the pen.”
[the rest can be read here, also image source and portuguese info +]
Do Dien Khanh, Cuộc sống hàng ngày (Daily Life #054), Nha Trang, Vietnam
For more visit her website
Russell Moreton, Fieldwork Perspectives, flowers left on a fence, 2011
Cyanotype and photogram from pinhole camera image.
Moleskine Series (A- #14), collage and ink by Juan Rayos
Frank Hofmann, Lili Kraus, 1947, gelatin silver print mounted on board @New Zealand Museum
Bertrand Fleuret — via & more — site
[you can download the whole .pdf file]
“I am alone. Walking at random. Wandering, as if at random,...
Peter Upward.
August Strindberg.
From The Lodger, Alfred Hitchcock, 1927.