Lair of a homeless madman, cast away by society. Inaccessible and barricaded room, hidden in the murky depths of the Toronto abandoned Brickwerks factory. Discovered accidentally by passing through winding underground tunnel, collapsed partway and littered with metal shards.
Tormented by loneliness, he sought to find the purpose of life. A scholar if you will, of the new age. The floor of the room as you can see, is littered with thousands of books, magazines, newspapers that the hobo has gathered over many years, now covered with thick layer of dust.
Waves upon waves of discarded objects.
In the back- a collection of artifacts: tapes, shoes, clothes, folders and plastic bags filled with newspaper cutouts.
Many of the bags- filled up with countless, disorganized notes, covered with scribbles, highlighted, underlined, crisscrossed numbers, letters and names.
Quite wonderful, I enjoy these latest photographical shoots because, despite peoples concerns about aesthetics, it harmonises perfectly with the conceptual and symbolic intentions, and with recognising this intent, the context of the aesthetic fixes itself and aligns itself with the perceptual perspective. The inherent chaos of this piece, its brilliance, is like a demonstration of its genius, the genius in an entropic pattern of chaotic antithetical pattern making. The ghostly figure of the person, with their ephemereal sensibilities, is much like our own shadows. I applaud it thus.
is it true about the hobo?
maybe he was trying to find his purpose in life.