Krakow, hero behind glass

Krakow, around the corner I stop staring at a Working Class Hero from 1964 who also looks like that Aryan archetype from 1940. Tall and straight-backed and with a visionary glance, he regards something and still nothing beyond me, far away. At the same time an androgynous, almost feminine line – the lips and eyebrows.

Now it's 2009 and the pale hero behind glass has been reduced to display a blue, short-sleeved shirt that no one want to buy. Shit happens.

London, was anyone there?

London, I put the camera on a a small table. The evening light is weak and I have to use long shutter time for the exposure. That makes people passing appear like transparent, dissolving beings. Like some people I met and separated from long ago and now are remembered only as fragments. The time of the camera shutter and the time you live have a similar influence on people passing.