THERE ARE SEVERAL FRESHLY CRACKED fissures of partially groomed facts and fiction penetrating this site, which for all intents and purposes, already point to the miserable but resplendent life and times of the so-called crack photographer. No need to press further than a few clicks away. Some would claim we have already used too many words in this accounting. We respond with uncharacteristic but sudden silence.
About Gabriel Thy
Posted in Persona non grata
Tagged biography, fiction, fissures, Gabriel Thy, intent, purpose, silence
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Red Snapper On The Hook
REDSNAPPER IS A GREAT FISH for grilling. The firm texture and nutty flavor make it a rare treat for the baited few who have not failed to comprehend the original whiff and wail of the Scenewash Project.
Here we can sense the Gabriel Thy stock and trade, as he becomes hooked, then held captive to the gonzo mundane in urban photography staggered across several decades, mostly material from 1984-2004. In those earlier visual reportages, long before he began to rely more upon the brush and cheap non-toxic acrylics to satisfy his need to explore his own bellicose world with augured purpose he was guided by concept of stalking the organizing force, the principle of the non-accidental, the principle of not just the first cause but the principle of the organizing force as the just cause, a bundle of idead known collectively as teleology.
Always honest about the nature of his game, he never identified himself as anything more than a red snapper, although he often confessed himself a mere incidental shooter. But he stopped using that term, however illogical, after the Beltway shooters came along in 2002.
A camera had been his default social entry, throughout one score plus of decadence and defiance, frank pickings, folly and façade, a blustery historical record where the doors of personal identity seemed slammed shut to him. His camera forgivingly allowed him a shallow plot, and sense of purpose in an otherwise caustic boredom. Locked into a recoil of destiny, he shot pictures as an outsider stumbling in.
Now everyone has a camera…
Muscle For Dirty Pictures
Lunch At Tilghman's Island
STILL SWEATING THE SWINGING but snagging details of setting up this photographic appeal. History captured on the fly, but why, several miles apart along the cascading citizenry and flavored lands of the raging River Potomac.
“For years I never left the house without my camera,” says Gabriel. It was my safety blanket, a visual clue to my identity as a surveyor of all things.”
We refuse to gasp like withering ghosts of uninspired reification, aiming through that glass darkly, but instead are adroitly weaponized with the dueling good graces of tall time and home court tenacity eager to retrample the blurred pixels of our imagination behind the lens.
Gabriel continues, “To borrow a phrase or two, I shall beat it to fit, paint it to match, and praise it with the poetry of the ancient panzer, strong in its ways, before milkin’ it for all it’s worth, begging comment, begging silence…”
My estate is dirty and short on muscle; long green vines meander through my yellowing pungent squash. The promised but stalled appearance of big red melons mock me for waiting too long to plant. Only a few bells will survive of many planted. My excuse is mellow. The evening encroachment of deer and a few brown rabbits have impacted the growth, but plainly I took too many weeks to build boxes this first spring in Viking Valley, costly, but preparatory, and required, given the general question of self-sufficiency. Fence needed, but I haven’t decided on the type of fencing I’ll need both to satisfy myself, and my neighbors to the east and south.
Will next year bring the bumper crop that We The People have been waiting for? Let us pray…
Posted in Camera, Garden, Lyrica, Persona non grata, Potomac River
Tagged camera, deer, garden, Panzer, planting, rabbit, reification, seasons
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