Photographs tell us stories, only stories. They top and tail the truth in order that we believe them. And we believe them. But just as they prove themselves to us they let us go and it’s only our belief that creates everything. There is a secret amongst all good photographs which others are not privy to and the first sentence of that secret is always the same: “see me.”
But when a photograph speaks of silence, when it speaks of time expanding in that silence ; it is only sound, a delicate sound, an occasional whisper that becomes significant, and builds for us, out of silence, the space and all the unsaid words. Words and even the world are saturated in sound and silence. When one is present, the other is not. And always, the one that is not present becomes more essential.