There is something endlessly appealing about the anonymity found in big cities. The ability to blend in and be unseen, to be a voyeur into people's lives. The thrumb and pace blur the onslaught of endless bodies together, removing the individual from existence while supplanting the soul into the heart of the city.
Cruising around at night brings ample opportunity to see the darker sides of the city, yes, but also rare glances of intimacy not seen during the day. Intimacy that is washed out by the saturation of the sun. Theres more people, more traffic, clanging, banging and an endless array of distractions, intentional or otherwise.
At night the blue light of a cell phone will illuminate the joyful faces of a couple sharing a laugh peering, hunched over a video. The dinners enjoying a meal will be framed in communion through a lit-up window in the dark surrounds. These mundane scenes pop at night. Something overlooked and unnoticed during the day becomes the focal point of our visual experience, should we take the time to notice.
The long exposures of a passing car signifies our ability to blend in, to disappear while at the same time leaving our mark. The red light of Lama’s van pulled me in, to an hour-long conversation that would not have happened during the night. The seemingly vacant alley poses a question about its vacancy, with so much light and reflection why would this unseen space remain unused?
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