CARNIVAL, PARIS (WOMAN READING BEHIND STAGE), 1926, GELATINE SILVER PRINT, ANDRE KERTESZ
Paris: where a photograph entinctures _________. The folding chair: linger the body into thirds. Her ballet slipper: twine around the eye. Backstage light: a crushed, crushable kiss. The man cut in half by art: feels no back strain. Her sly right foot: cocked slightly upward. Heavy lips: the smell of an armpit's damp. Too puffy fur coat: borrowed from a séance. Her wedding ring: the science of silence. The burdened book: read into this what you will. Her high top hat: coughing the invisible man. 1926: when I _______ and sometimes _________. The certain flower behind her ear: Hemingway for the masses. Working class nose: what is a book without body, a body without book. Andre Kertsz: the slow disappearance of luck.
For over fifty years, Andre Kertesz took photographs of people reading. The photos are quiet, intimate, erotic. If you wanted to continue in the spirit of Kertesz, would you take photos of people chatting on their cells? I hope so; I hope not.