“Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.“
T. S. Eliot, Four Quartets
Anatomy in Time
Eliot’s unredeemable time is predetermined, locked in, fully resistant to being acted upon. If that doesn’t fill you with cool dread, I implore you, share your secret. My unredeemable time refers to the awareness of second after second slipping through my fingers such that every better judgement, every wisdom gained is always tragically, inevitably, too late. If the pictures don’t exactly match, the regret is spot on.
Flowers, as clear embodiments of transience as you want, in my hands don’t hesitate to speak clearly and directly their insistent reminder of the magnitude of the present moment, and the next one, and the next.
No Time to Explain. Take off your clothes.
When time was longer, before photographs, painters were moved to capture the immediacy of a child in play, shoppers in the piazza, gestures made beautiful by nature of being unconscious and mundane. I opted for young women, ballet dancers when I can find them, and nude just to charge the work further with risk and intimacy. Quick drawings before the pose changes. Life in anatomy in moments in time.