Grain destined for export stacked on Madras beaches (February 1877) I've started writing a series of posts on photography on World...
Thursday, 19 November 2015
Versus: Black and White. Where does one end and what does it mean?
There are two books in David Jimenez's Versus; a black book and a white book.
The black book is made up of images where glistens of water, trees, fish, doorways, leaves, clouds, cats, lighting, hands and walls shine though. There's not much shining though. It's all pretty black and difficult to see what is going on.
The white book is made up of images of mud, cloud, sand, grass, doorways, flesh, sky and sea. It's not really clear what is going on. It might even be that the images in the black book are the same as the one's in the white book but inverted (they're not but they could be. Maybe there are duplicates).
So I'll say it again; It's difficult to see what's happening. And that's the point of the book? It's about how we see images when they fall apart, how we put together the tiny fractions of image that still remain and form something from them.
It's a black-white philosophical enquiry then, with the fractions forming a narrative that is 'halfway belong the real and the imaginary... The images explore the limits of visual perception and transport us to an uncertain region in which we only have our intuition to guide us' as it says in the blurb.
It's a puzzle of a book then, one where you have to work to find meaning and the meaning is never conclusive or pinned down. It is about the edges of our perception but provides no answers or framework to consider how those edges work.
But it does take us to those edges and that's where it gets interesting, when you can't easily see what's going on, or when one thing becomes another and for a fraction of a second you're in a no-man's land of seeing; switching between the gears of different parts of the brain. And it is a lovely little package of a book, coming in those two volumes in a kind of slipcase.
Buy the book here.