A chamber of infinitely distorted reflections, where they multiply and disintegrate, feedback loops of presence suggested, then denied – the image as bodily trauma. Or just exposing its own inherent frailty, what seems so often to be some accident or misfortune, but perhaps is actually a deeper condition, its
fundamental disorder. Faces that are masks, anonymous bodies only seen as the conduit for some dreadful extremes of sensation, impossible to name, leaving its trace in the picture, in layers of memory – the terrible, endless regression of all experience, down to the bone and when contained, it almost breaks the photographic material apart. See more of Rodick’s work on his
website and read about it
here.
