Stuck on my Eyes

By Patrick La Roque

I remember long discussions when we first began this project: about form, about gear, about subject matter. Mostly I remember how adamant we were about our freedom to simply be, to allow stories to reveal themselves without a need for linearity or a pointed commentary. We would embrace abstraction the way painters did. We would explore poetic text on the same level as we would explanation. Documentary would coexist with sensory. I can’t say we’ve fulfilled every promise we made or reached every goal we set for ourselves. But I do believe our initial premise still rings true today:

This is not about forced reality. It is not about pure reportage without intent. It is about resolute interpretations of the moment. The eye as ghost and poet and translator. We believe in interaction without interference, in rogue infiltrations borne out of respect. The image as truth and as point of view.

We vow to be shadows.
We vow to search for light.

The images below? How many times have I gazed at these rooms, at all hours of the day/year? I keep revisiting each one as new territory, of dancing shadows and subdued light play—revealing the same echoes as if again mystified. In the end we always return to what we know.

The D.J’s gone but the song remains: “...five years, stuck on my eyes.