Blind Field is a series of photographs overtly mediated through the camera lens and my mind’s eye. Roland Barthes described the “blind field” as the space where the photographer’s intention and the viewer’s attention (as informed by their life’s experience) meet. I compel that encounter by pointing the camera through metaphorical veils such as the cloud-forest thicket of Volcán Poás, or a gargantuan on-line image of the Triangulam Galaxy, or the window of my suburban home in Atlanta, Georgia. I’ve been collecting these oblique perspectives for almost a decade, a period that took painting away and made me photographer. Through the process of shuffling and re-editing the images over several years, I traverse my inner landscape and visualize spaces for folks to explore their own interiority.
The Blind Field images are scattered organically in various sizes. Some clump together, even overlapping, while others float alone. Meanwhile, seven 38x50 inch photographs of a window screen are hung in a row. Each one is about the size of a small window, and the repeated screen forms a tight grid with a single small puncture. On a floating shelf is a row of loupes that the viewer can use to view the prints up close. The color of the “windows” flickers through the visible light spectrum: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. As the viewer presses in to peer through the loupe, gaps in the grid widen as the color dissolves into multiplicity. Their body curls into the shape of looking, and the marks they leave become an index of presence.