Glass is a wonderful thing to a photographer not only because it is that medium which enables the camera sensor to gather a focused image, but also because of how it delightfully plays with the photons streaming about us. It bends, refracts, reflects and redirects that part of our world that we can only observe through our own set of organic optics, interpret through our living network of bending, refracting, reflecting and redirecting neurons. That veil which we desire to be transparent and pure shifts the invisible in visible ways and turns a city at night into a wondrous hall of mirrors for the eye that will pause.
The beautiful thing about this dance is that just as infinite space reveals the fingerprints of the smallest particles through the DNA of the physical laws that bind their motions so too do the visible things speak of the invisible. These thin panes reveal what we cannot see. Their fragility speaks to us of the fleetingly fragile make-up of our own being. They divulge how their movements and interactions alter and shift everything around them, their very forms determining both purpose and relationship. Transparent and opaque defined by their relationship to the light for which they were designed; bent to focus and silvered to obscure.
Fragility marks glass so much so that it must be prefixed with strength to be anything else, just as a stone must be prefixed with weakness. Fragility marks us as well. How many thin veils surround us, tempting us to peer through? How thin the veil that supports us above the abyss of time? Will we pause to see? Will we veil the veil, mirror it till the moment it shatters leaving only the cascading shards of who we thought we were?