Sunrise

July 26, 2011

A crisp morning and he steps away from the slumbering pack to stretch nakedly in the newborn light. The others begin to stir from their sleep, great forms in shadowed coolness beneath the overpass. Moving from their resting place, they peer and blink into the sun then away. Darkness cast by their lumbering figures stripe the pale grasses and stretch monstrously across the empty highway.

Elegiac

July 23, 2011

Am I correct in noting that there is also an unearthly silence that can be heard in many of your photographs?

Could be. Someone once said that my pictures have a distinctive elegiac tone, that they are pictures taken in a minor key. – John Yang

Hearsay

July 17, 2011

“I’ve never seen one, not seen seen, but I knew a guy who did. Weird guy; lonely kid. Used to tell me he would see them all lined up on the median watching the traffic flowing. I’ll believe it if I see it, but I believe he believed. Anyway, no one knows where he has gone off to now.” – truck driver, 49, Iowa

Unknown Being #4

July 16, 2011

Click image to enlarge.

Groups

July 13, 2011

A Fathom of Decrepitude.

The Decrepit #1

July 11, 2011

The sun rises and the Decrepit are already awake. Dark eyes blink into the dawn light.

Instinctively, the pack-herd begins their daily travel. No words or glances are shared.

They form a ragged line, loping along with an awkward gait.

Looking about curiously, they group up against each other. A highway crosses their path.

Automobiles dart past in a fervour. The Decrepit regard them warily.

Spotting a gap in the traffic, they bound across and quickly disappear back into the brush. No one sees them.

Unknown Being #2 and #3

July 10, 2011

Click image to enlarge.

The First Moment

July 8, 2011

It’s the kind of hotel that is so bland it fades from memory before you’ve thought of it. Lobby, hallway, key card, muffled and air-conditioned room, all lying in wait for their tenant.

It wasn’t late but the drive down had been exhausting, so I crawl beneath the crisp sheets of one of beds for a moment.

I wake up several hours later in a thoroughly chilled space. Shivering, I dash over towards the air-conditioner and dial it down.

I call her.

I can’t believe I’m so close to her. She sounds nervous. I am nervous. We can’t avoid the topic of our pending meeting, and the conversation keeps curling back in on itself, despite our best efforts. We finally decide to meet that night amidst weak protestations and excuses. It is midnight when I walk through the lobby of the hotel into the warm night air.

It takes me thirty minutes through pitch-black back roads and forests before I finally spot the halogen-lit front entrance of our meeting-place. I turn in, slowing as I pull into the loop and I see her standing across the road, waiting.

She flits across the high-beams of my car like a shy doe and comes to my window. She smiles, and says, “Hi.” in an uncertain but devastatingly alluring way. I look up at her and open the door, stepping out to respond, “Hey.” I didn’t know what else to say.

It is dark and I can’t see much, but I can see enough. She is beautiful. We hug, almost like a trial and our cheeks brush against each other as if we both thought we should be kissing instead. She feels warm and soft and perfect in my arms.

The car door is chiming faintly in protest, but it seems like a world apart.

I lean back and look into her face, as she looks back at me. I giggle nervously. Her smile, her lips, draw me in and I kiss her, softly, then harder. I wrap my arms around her and we melt into each other like long-lost lovers.

That is just the beginning.

Return

July 6, 2011

I drove up from the border to the awful familiar surroundings of the south end.

Exhaustion sets in.

Exhaustion with this city.

Bloated, rashing, swollen; I feel sick again.