What interests me today in an image? Whatever is visual is a telling. The mode through which a photograph, for instance, latches onto a moving vessel is a method by which one lies. The vessel is sanitized. In fact the viewer empties it of all immediacy by recognizing its documentary technique—as in a manner of speaking, when an utterance is reducible to information, it becomes context. Then we approach it in a style of caution: what did he mean then?
The telling is a visual component. Anything made visible always has something to say. For instance, reading through poems one early morning in midsummer, it occurred to me that images (at least the ones I thought that were images) were fixtures of clarity. The visceral was legible, though there is such a thing as sleight of hand. I am saying that the proposition remains the same. The fact that I utter it must mean it is there.
Already, say, the sonata has moonlight. Or one’s reflection, because it is self-directed, tells a heightened individualism, and we cannot rid ourselves of this consciousness, even if we do ascribe the body to God. What can we do with it? What does a selfness want to say?
Imagery clarifies inasmuch as it is fake. It is never an interruption to us. We do not know what it means for an image to disrupt time. And it is important that we are straightforward with our perception of time. Like a photograph, it is heavily visualized. The exchange in conversation is a line. A document is an acquisition. So keep your eye on documents. Documents are how most of us ended up here.
from Composition Series