Take, for example, the instant in which you, looking out the side window of a car, passing a billboard sign on the highway, are only able to see its profile—a meaningless, vertical stitch in a stream of information. I adore this instant. During the moment of a profile, I am suspended in the slender eternity between two opposing sensations: the alienation of not knowing the face, and the spirituality of not needing to know who or what that is. The alienation is, in fact, the source of the pleasure. Content as a nomad, I need not know that (or even where I am), only having felt alone. These images are motion pictures from an endless car ride. These are pictures of that. Ultimately, that is both the information hidden from view and the displaced viewer. That, is an alienated self in a fragmented void and the cumulative sum of gestures that constitutes an identity.
What do you think?