An image is a point of stillness. It is arrested visual
information. A basic unit of comprehension. An image may be analyzed and
organized in the context of other images (a thing next to another thing, and so on). This compilation of data may provide
the illusion of a presentation of truth. But any legitimate claim to truth the
image may have is swamped by the infinite multitude of unseen truths that it’s
own assertions deny. One imagines a film reel—a series of images. One after the
other each presents a truth of a unique perspective in a fleeting moment of
time. But none of these images, arrested, can come close to the truth of the
originary moment, because true experience is not a series of framed stills.
Time may be broken down into nanoseconds for our comprehending pleasure, but
understanding clocks, even building them, does not change the way we live time.
An image becomes poetry when it manages to look beyond its
being looked at. A clock becomes art when placed next to another.
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