I realized, that to some extent, even the translation I practice daily, of the visual torrent in my head to a coherent one on paper, is fraught with inevitable failure too. I can never make things look as I see them in my head, just as I can never tell a story exactly how it happened. But of course, I'm talking about a failure without the negative baggage the word generally implies-- failures, I'm learning over and over again, are critical to the process of learning. I recognize that this is probably reading like some sort of silly art-school epiphany. The concept is really quite simple: there exists a divergence between reality (the subjective lens) and truth (the objective lens).
I love these pictures-- two of many chemically distorted Polaroid images in my collection. Polaroid has discontinued their film, and a small company in Germany (I hear) has publicly promised to pick up the films manufacture. I like how the ruin of these prints simultaneously frames and confuses the composition. Also, the colors of those stains are just really rich and lovely and early 1980's-- chemical hazels and violets like you see when car oil floats in rain puddles.