I've been reading between my own lines. I look at the stuff I've posted to my websites and ask myself what others ask when they encounter it: Why would anyone do this? Who would post this kind of stuff for anyone to read? I decided some months ago that I am, in essence, a pornographer. A pornographer of the heart who renders his sensitivities with the indelicacy of vulgarity.
Happy things happen by accident. I opened this photo of a wax candle in the shape of Santa Claus intending to edit it in Photoshop. I activated the cloning tool intending to wipe away some dark spots on the white surface. Instead the face of an unknown executive from the 1980s appeared. That's because I had scanned a few dozen photos of CEOs and high-ranking corporate executives from the 1980s, intending to make some kind of collage with them. I had earlier activated the cloning stamp while the face of this CEO was on screen.
So there he is, smiling. This project started when I lived at a transient hotel in 1990 and 1991. Someone who lived in that building routinely discarded piles of corporate annual reports. These glossy, handsomely produced volumes arrived in the mailboxes of investors and outlined how well or how poorly the company's stock performed that year. I found the worlds presented in these publications foreign and even impossible to believe. I shall see where my instincts take me with this pursuit.
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