‘Flame’ is like a mirage, like a reflection of real things that can be seen on still waters. I say so because it is another mediocre but holy piece of work that I felt compelled to create out of sadness and jealousy towards the same man I made the Postcards to.
These photos were taken at dawn and at dusk from my bedroom window. They are generic but also unique in the sense that this particular view towards St Alfege church, from that particular height and angle, is mine. No one else can take that exact photograph because no one else has, as long as I live in this flat, access to my balcony where I stood to take these photos all that time ago.
Time has passed. Time, which, as they say, heals and which is also an equally magical component of photography. A photograph is drawn by the careful collaboration of time and light; the light that coloured that sky in all those purples, pinks and oranges, which had to be captured quickly because when they emerge, they also inevitably fade, along and into the flow of time that music seems to suspend with its emerging and dying, rising and fading notes. Notes, sounds. High and low, rising and falling, emerging and dying, like the waves that lovers ride on and like the waves of desire that turned into a flame.
© Carita Silander