my artist’s statement, written by sean slive1

Here lies one beginning – This is where you come in. You who are reading, forging ahead, will author this exhibition as we go. We're ready to begin, again.

I'm always doing that – this – relying on you dear Reader, your eyes specifically. They are what (dis)orient, decipher, and (dis)allow my photo-series (not absent of intent, not bound to an individual voice) to enter you. Your consumption is a threshold cutting-up every conscious moment; my Polaroids, then, are similarly acts of collage. Intrinsically temporal in their origin and enactment, the experiments/experiences on display here coexist via the limen of the document.

Meaning may enter these photographs. Be seduced by photographer's very process. Realize a tactile subjectivity in fact born of Eros, that an orgasm arises to be had... for me taking the pictures, it is experienced as a wave entering, possessing, erupted from materials at-hand.

Experience, the document, disrupts by disgorging always into a dream, continually shifting or loosing its grip around a discernable instant – your visit to this hall. The camera's unique technology is responsible for this plurality – it and we are singular, fleeting, whole unto self, desirous of purpose. Subjectivity appears to (not) endure only in concert with our senses. Notice how your attention is one vector, another lens, presently attuned to the possibility of endlessness, of identification with a part and sometimes a whole – they are my stories, determinations I made, once.

So why don't we have the meaning right now? Does any artifact satisfy our precociousness? Are you asking me?

As you come to know me, stilled and speechless for a time, may your conceptions of this Project come to be hushed by Polaroid's indelible rarity, the stubborn irreversibility of each print's generation, engagement collectively with one person's experience of taking a shot.

Thank you for inviting into existence our encounter, for being here when needed most. Stories available to all, my three years given to toil, your sagacity – persistent as breathing are the articulations, not only pieces of me.

Paul Baumann 11/12/09

1 See