Faith.
The belief in the existence of a truth we cannot truly know.
Paradox tumbling from the sky like rain… again.
I believe in Faith, which is to say that I believe in belief.
But I am not a religious man, at least not in the general sense. I do not believe in the idea of an omnipotent and jealous being watching over me. I do not believe for even one minute that we were “born in sin” or in the idea that we must somehow atone for being born in the first place. I believe that Heaven and Hell are opposite sides of the same coin, and that perspective is everything.
I believe that for better or for worse, we are the architects of our lives, and these lives are what we continually make of them.
I believe in Faith.
The artist Laurie Anderson once spoke of walking and falling. The idea that with each step, we fall forward slightly and then catch ourselves from falling. We do this over and over - and this is what we call walking.
The act of falling forward and Faith that we will catch ourselves from falling… we are motionless without it. Perhaps a lack of Faith equals paralysis.
I have no idea what so captivates the subject of this photograph. She sits in this bus shelter with her belongings as more than one bus passes her by. And she does not move except for the lifting of a finger to turn a page. I assume that she is holding a Bible, though the book has no outer markings.
It is old and worn.
Her garments and outsized crucifix are out of context. Perfectly normal within the confines of some great church, but on this evening street, it seems as though she has wandered onto the wrong set in a movie studio.
She does not belong here.
My muse is homeless, and perhaps that is the falling.
Immersed in this tattered and torn book, perhaps within she will catch herself from falling.
Faith.