FRANCINE ALMANDOZ AND THE TREACHERY OF IMAGES
Francine Almandoz is a dear friend of mine who hails from London, and who also happens to be a very modest shutterbug. The first series of photographs represents her more spiritual side, expressed alternately through the horror and quietude of cemeteries and chapels; the second set demonstrates her more quirky and precocious tendencies. But instead of bloviating for another paragraph or two, as I am wont to do in this abstruse little nook of cyberspace, allow me to share her artist’s statement (which may or may not be construed as a caveat):
CECI N’EST PAS UNE PIPE
I resolutely attest to the fact that I am not an artist in any sense of the word. I was drawn into the world of photography by sheer accident. One day, I walked into an electronics shop during a sale and emerged with a camera, a camera which not only changed my entire view of the world in which I live, but whose company I now cannot live without. The more I used my camera, the more I understood that this ‘art-form,’ being both democratic and open-ended, was completely generous with those willing to engage with it. What I lacked in skill was more than compensated by moments of sublime serendipity. I will leave grandiose discussions of reality and noumena to others. In the words of the inimitable Magritte: “I simply abandon myself to the Treachery of Images. I do this for better or worse!”
It’s fitting that Francine quoted Magritte, as this second series obliquely references his style (with a dash of M. C. Escher), particularly his penchant for windows and reflections, clouds, visual puns, and dissonant compositions.
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