wordcrush

Are these carefully considered slices of life or are they simply the happy byproducts of imposed frames and leeched colour? Is it the stark contrasts that accidentally emerge between oddly unbalanced shapes and colors, or do these photos simply express a metaphor for the futility or plain insanity of bourgeoise notions of success? Both, both, both, is my answer. All and more: the desert is more than construction architectural or photographic can contain; construction is more than it can itself know, as meaty little humans spill in and out of rectangular orifices, sliding off frame, into the voids of the world, or sparking consciousness through cables on the other side of the globe. Whatever narratives Steve Smith's photos contain, they evoke as many more that have slid through their pretty white borders which look like cake-icing dying to be eaten. And why do critics consume sadness? Does it not leave infectious little cubes of anger twirling perpetually inside? Why is it so pleasurable to watch dreams of the middle class die? That is not rhetorical. Answer me that.

# posted by Lintropy @ 11:46 AM