PHOTOGRAPHER'S JOURNAL: One of the first things I saw when I entered the factory was this small bench. Clearly, it was put here by previous photographers, and I've found web images showing the same pair of shoes in other locations around the mill. One can imagine a photographer months or years back arriving at this spot, props tucked under his arms as he kneels and arranges a pleasing still-life; perhaps it was a team effort. Then came the followers adding, subtracting and remixing perfection, though to me the terrifying questions was how to approach the bench. It is a decision fraught with decisions, hulking consequences and immovable givens: windows, doors, light, shadow. I willingly did my part by moving one of the spools of silk and joined the list of others who photographed here.
After that, how far can the boundaries of photographic art be pushed before one has left photography altogether, or is it possible to slip back and forth across the border at will as if the photographic art of capturing the telling instant, and the digital technology that permits infinite reconsideration of every instant, were all one? When the medium can do anything, where does one find landmarks to chart a course through billions upon billions of pixels?