Tomb of Light

The light in the picture leads us into an abyss. Where does the light come from in this closed space, a place that seems sealed from six directions? The geometry of the space, both around and inside, traps the light. The interconnected network of black lines and joined surfaces in the photograph leaves no escape—or perhaps the light, the camera, and the photographer are all imprisoned within a space they themselves have created. The light seems to be slowly digging its own grave—or maybe it is hastening it. There is no color, but the warmth of the light seeps through the coldness of the tomb. In the middle of these flat surfaces, the light has created a slight hollow. I don’t know if this hollow goes deeper or not. The soft curve of the hollow seems to invite the viewer to lie down in it. It seems fate is for the camera, the photographer, and the viewer to be buried with the light in the earth.