Photography is brutal. A photograph is the end result of a vicious
performing act.

The vocabulary surrounding a photograph is violent. There are shutters
and filters and bellows; aberrations and distortions; solarizers,
polarizers, sensitizers; developers, fixers, stoppers; these, in
conjunction with those other progeny of the industrial revolution, are
used to shoot subjects, to capture them.

A darkroom is simply that: a camera obscura. It is at once terrifying
and purposeful in its intent. Film & paper, once exposed to the
tyranny of that which lies without, may not lie naked again until they
have been rehabilitated, until they have recovered to a state deemed
meaningful: an object to be consumed. This process of selection is
exquisite in its sadism; we now have machines that make light of these
macabre methods.

The earliest foto is a blink. A blink is a preventative mechanism. One
blinks to see better. One blinks to lubricate. A blink is also a
pause. The seeds of photography were sown when we first noticed the
images formed on the inside of eyelids, at once black and pinkorange,
shape-shifting and electric.

The sneeze came next. Now we had a sound to emulate: the shutter.

The Eye is King. The Mind is his Queen.

We now live within that panopoly of apparati the mechanical Eye has
birthed: chortles, sniffles, chuckles, giggles; cracks, queefs, farts,
wheezes; yawns, moans, grimaces, frissons; burps & belches, whispers &
snores.

http://cixa.org/ephemerides/mame.php
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