PHOTOGRAPHER'S JOURNAL: Whatever other magic may be found at the silk mill, for me it's unique beauty is the intricate delicacy of the works, and I suspect I'm not alone in this respect. Along each row of machines my eyes followed the even line of porcelain glides that once guided silken threads. How did those filaments pass through the silk-works? How was it rigged? Which parts turned; which jiggled, bobbed or wound when the works were set in motion, and one could watch the silk spin? The beauties of the mill strike me as Victorian-haunted and appropriately arachnid, all pinions and talons ingeniously devised to weave a diaphanous web.
It is perhaps this more than anything else that has led me to finish these images in monochrome (in this case, slightly sepia-toned). It was a difficult decision as the mill is naturally colorful, and bare woods are beautifully darkened with age, and work harmoniously in most of the color photos, In this image I've also bleached the high end tones to emphasize qualities of light and delicacy, and I've set the whole in a frame to contain the extreme divergence.
