journal no. 3

black, white, and all the grey in between

Raised in the nineties, we were saturated in colors. Following from the neon of the eighties, bright colors, loud patterns, and visual noise perpetuated every aspect of life in the nineties. So why do two children of bombastic visual language enfold themselves in the world of black and white photography?

Sure, part of it must be a rebellion against our upbringing. Youth is ever quick to react contrarily to the modes of their predecessors. Every artistic age has been brought forth in contention to the last. Another part of it is likely a cynicism towards the modern world, a search for clarity through greyscale. If the world around us is messy and chaotic, it makes sense that we would look to alternative means of extracting order and quiet. I am hesitant to put much weight behind either of these evaluations, however, while not entirely ready to discount them either.

Our main impetus for devoting ourselves to black and white photography, I posit, is a need for romance in our daily lives. Some of you may scoff (hell, Phil is probably rolling his eyes reading this), but hear me out. I am not speaking of romance as espoused by cinema and literature, but of a romanticized worldview. Our constant search for quiet stolen moments requires an eye for the romance in life. A solitary figure awash in light or stepping out from the crowd on a street provides a moment apart from the world as it is; an opportunity to transcend time and create an image of the eternal. So in a sense, what drives Oculoire is escapism. Desire to find an escape from our current age through enduring imagery.