As I look at many of my recent images, particularly those that don't look like photographs, I notice an increasing number have an intentionally ambiguous anchor point in time. All photographs capture a moment in time, but what time? I'm not interested in simply making an image look old; rather, I'm trying to evoke the feeling of an earlier time. Here's the strange part: I leave anachronistic clues. I like the ambiguity. I don't know why this fascinates me. Maybe I'm getting old.
Here's an image I'm currently working on, the church of San Giorgio Maggiore on the Venetian island of the same name. Work began on this beautiful church, designed by Palladio, in 1566. In a sense, however, the church "existed" centuries before in the form of a 10th century monastery on the same spot. The sailboats on the left side are of relatively recent design, but I'm tempted to leave them in. In a way they connect us to the site, literally and figuratively, as did their ancestral sailing vessels over a thousand years ago.
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