The Immensity of Randomness

The hoodoos left behind in this amphitheater of erosion wear the costumes and masks that disguise randomness as they sing the chorus about the illusion of essence with labels of purpose so easily shifted by angle and light.

These curtains of erosion hide the absurdity behind them, for I raise my camera and point the lens at what it pretends to capture: eternal formations defining my mortal position more than the immensity of randomness.

This curse of the fixed image (and labels) and its fate as a screen made me think of this interesting observation made by Albert Camus: “In Italian museums are sometimes found little painted screens that the priest used to hold in front of the face of condemned men to hide the scaffolding.  The leap in all its forms, rushing into the divine or the eternal, surrendering to the illusions of the everyday or of the idea – all those screens hide the absurd.” -Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus (p. 91)


somewhere in Big Sur

Do the cliffs close in to the right or open up to the left? Are these echoes of each other, without a source? Or are they more like strips of paper simulating weight through shading?

somewhere between me and the window

And because why not put them together.

somewhere in between the sea kelp and the newsprint

And just for fun.

somewhere between multiple faces