Bruce Dale • Rogue

Friday, 26 February 2016

“She stood above her worktable and began to cut up old negatives and slide film, allowing the slivers of silver and dye to fall randomly. With occasional pangs of indecision, she remembers each image as the scissor blades sliced through the legs of a young woman, the ear of a bunny, or the sturdy stems of forsythia. Shards of underexposed frames, light-leaked edges, awkward compositions, and redundant poses, drop like petals into discarded bouquets.” Mark Alice Durant • Saint Lucy