On November 26th 2017 I had a new message:
“One of the things that define and differentiate photography from any other art form is the ability to document, to capture reality with utmost accuracy.
In fact, its invention shook the traditional techniques such as painting and sculpture to their very core, along with their established figurative style. With this in mind, it was rather unusual, shocking even, when this sort of image-making, still fighting for its place at the arts table, began roaming the realms of the non-representational, thus becoming the abstract photography, looking to satisfy its everlasting thirst for experimentation and rebellion.
In his 1929 essay on the history of the medium, Walter Benjamin proclaimed photography’s “second nature” as its inherent ability to detach and abstract the visible from the real. ”It is another nature which speaks to the camera, rather than to the eye,”, he wrote.
And so, we got photographs that rejected the identity which dictates absolute realism, photographs that focused on the process, rather than the object, photographs that lacked a clear pointing of the finger as to what is it they depicted. This form of expression is known today as abstract photography.”
In the evening I posted “Anguish“.
And 365 days later I am not sure…