Tuesday, October 19, 2010


The fishmonger exults that his day is done, the runoff from his stall already percolating to ground, reflections in the stucco walls behind him lending luminance to grime and weightlessness to cascades of escape. Only the photographer's infamous indulgence of sepia and multiple lights mediates against empathy for the sight.

Extravagance of sepia emerges as a coincidence of endless urban illumination in a Terestchenko photograph from today, highlights of the cauldron drawing us in rather than repelling, the upward gaze engulfed by narratives particularised by fenestration and commingled in the sky. 

The purity of cream in the calyx of a whisk at ease.

Apartments, Ivan Terestchenko
Whisk, Les contours du silence