Vivid imagery stands off the red brick walls of the open shutter like a visual beacon.
It is as if I am seeing these very images I know so well…for the very first time. David himself is highly impressed with the prints. Amsterdam. Toronto behind him, family time lies ahead. We are standing in the ambiance of Durango’s very own Open Shutter gallery in the midst of Divided Soul. David’s 91-year-old mother shoots me a quick, warm smile…a certain sharp, friendly twinkle in her eye.
The night has passed, and another. The work has been introduced, digested…the stories have been told, new projects unveiled. Tequila sits before me. David leans in close…your gonna write about this right? Coronas. Fresh lime splatters the lens on my Nikon; pump up the iso…no need for flash. Not tonight. I am all about the moment – it feels good. We have collected a large ensemble of friends, family, curators and photographers…the best kind of company. Tawny in the background, drowning out so many wonderful conversations is the sound of Dylan.
The Back Space theater- that was the venue. Small, comfortable…not withstanding the rough unfinished areas that such a stage requires. The marking of a classic loft, gallery, or otherwise artistic setting. David is nervous. Diligent sound check aside. High energy.
David smiles, the buzz is on. Burn.
David’s mother is front and center, sister at left, extended family either side, friends of family file in. Dean Conger takes an authoritive chair, and with him comes a certain presence. David is nervous. Did I mention his mother is in the front row. Energy rolls out like seawater, photographic escapism.
Rio.Scicily.Off For A Drive.Cuba.Nirobi.Women.Tell It Like It Is.
Back to Rio.
I am lost in the imagery, the narrative carries me on. Alert. Thought provoking, high octane, visuals storytelling. This is a one of a kind showing, a hometown repeat from Amsterdam…the Director’s cut in Widescreen. Lights on. A Magnum performance. Burn gets the spotlight. Conger applauds.
Back to the tequila, fast forward, the night rolls on. Headlights on the blacktop, a sleepy neighborhood greets David. Home.
Burnians Burn On….