They are photos of concrete curbs and walls that have been painted over many times.
What could be considered tattered and “ugly” in its decay could also be seen as extraordinarily evocative, rich in texture, and ripe with meaning.
The thought I had when taking these photos was this: what we see is not always what we really see. Our culture and our context play a powerful part in filtering and fining our experience. What is age? What is beauty?
Sometimes, we see the curb that is blocking our way or just a proper coat of paint smoothing over the cracks and crevices on a wall.
What makes an image (or a person) more interesting, more beautiful, more arresting, more valuable? Is it this?
