Camera lucida

Writing is the destruction of every voice, of every point of origin. Writing is that neutral, composite, oblique space where our subject slips away, the negative where all identity is lost, starting with the very identity of the body writing.

Roland Barthes, “The Death of the Author”

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Likely the tagging went like this.  

(1)  Islam sucks  

(2)  But not as much as Christianity  

(3)  Sucks deleted and I ♥ added.

But what if it went like this?

(1)  Islam sucks

(2)  Sucks deleted and replaced by I ♥

(3)  But not as much as Christianity added?

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I SHOULD FIND SOMETHING BETTER TO

DO WITH MY TIME BUT THIS IS JUST A

MORNING EXERCISE BEFORE I GO AND

RENOVATE MY HALF A MILLION CONDO

WHILE YOU LOSERS FIRE UP THE BONG

AND PLAY CALL OF DUTY WHILE ITS NICE

OUTSIDE.  HOPEFULLY SOMEONE MARKS

THIS WITH A SWEET THROW UP THAT

BELONGS ON A WALL

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commentary

Shot in the same location as #4 on another wintery day, these images sample the ever-changing feast of graffiti with which the passing trains are adorned.  The railcar could have come from anywhere from Halifax to Vancouver and one thousand and one places in between, or maybe even from the Disunited States down south.  Who knows who wrote which bits of this rolling conversation, where or when or why?

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