The Philosophotographer

Blurring the line between the sacred and the profane.

Time like a river in its ceaseless motion;
On, on, each speeding hour cannot stand still,
But as waves thrust by waves drive waves before them
So time runs first or follows forever new:
The flying moment gone, what once seemed never
Is now, which vanishes before we say it,
Each disappearing moment in a cycle,
Each loss replaced within the living hour.

—Ovid - The Metamorphoses, "The Philosopher"

Yet fear itself she found presented
a hidden beauty in the end:
our disposition being invented
by nature, contradiction’s friend.

—Alexander Pushkin, Eugene Onegin

Art is magic delivered from the lie of being truth.

Theodor Adorno, Minima Moralia

Green was the silence, wet was the light,
the month of June trembled like a butterfly.
Oh, in my house beside the abyss, give me
the tormenting structure of that silence,
pavilion of the sea, forgotten in the sand.

—Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

The uncanny is something hidden which ought to have remained missed but which is brought to light.

—Sigmund Freud, “The Uncanny”