In 2015 I revisited an image that I had taken two years earlier, of a corner in one of the rooms at a Claudel/Bourgeois show in Avignon. I had recently read a paragraph in a book by John Berger about Vermeer -The Painter in his Studio -in which he described the function of the closed-in room in Vermeer's work. It was, he said, to remind the viewer of the infinite.
Looking again at that calm image of that corner of that gallery space, I began to think about all that a single corner might represent. The mastery of our surroundings, key elements of our evolutionary knowledge applied to create one of nature's most resilient structures. Gone is the uncertainty of an irregular cave wall.
Peace of mind and safety woven in to the structure itself.
For me, each of the images in Corners not only tells its own story, it also has its own destiny. There is the origin of the image: the memory of where it was taken, the circumstances that brought me to that place, the light in that moment. But beyond that lies the axis that the mind's eye draws from the convergence of the three lines. An imaginary line leading outwards from that space and moment, to places unknown and unknowable, billions of light years away.
I see, in these corners, birth and death but also strength, fear, safety, singularity and love, held in a continuum.