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Oh I know what’s wanted.
The detachment, the eye in constant judgment,
Kept to the other side of the lens,
Too much emotion a solar flare that ruins the shot
Unless used deliberately and then
It’s got to somehow show that it’s deliberate.
Subtler effects preferred, the light from unexpected angles,
Dawn or dusk to pull out contours previously unseen,
Or the harsh spotlight overhead to wash out distractions,
Reveal the underlying form in bright and black.
Never the soft focus, or never overall,
Edges blur only to contrast the hard-edged truth,
The subject matter meaningless in itself,
Infused with meaning by the act of encapsulating it
In Art.
(Trite analogy approaching. You are warned.)
Eventually to hang on a freshly painted wall,
While those whose trash is neatly bagged in plastic, twist-tied,
Locked down against an animal incursion,
Murmur to each other over close-ups of discarded gum wrappers,
“How gritty. How very, very real.”