My work cooks itself on a gentle flame over time. I occasionally lift the lid and give it a quick stir, but I have learned to trust that it will tell me when it is ready. This is time as conveyor belt, hamster wheel. It is something I need to endure and can't hurry. I can't hurry time. We liken taking a photograph to stopping time, but the line of time without space is an imperfect model. If we imagine it instead as an infinite hall, straight as an arrow and leading ahead forever, we might better describe taking a photograph as opening a door into a room along that hall. The size of this room can be readily understandable, or densely inscrutable. The hall continues outside, but we poke our head or step inside for a moment and shuffle around this space we created. In a good photograph, space is more important than time.
Beth: Week 7, Label