Susan Burnstine has that artistic touch. More than at arms-length, her photography is work that makes you think you’re inside the image, shifting through it, even as you claw to get closer. The shots are custodians of time and emotion, mirages of our dwindling capacity to hold onto the world while we walk through it. They are barely there and yet wholly haunting. They make perfect sense and yet defy the eye. They are full of depth and pull and clarity and distortion. They are harsh while blindingly gentle.
Dedicated to the pursuit of producing what she needs, Susan has built her own cameras, many of them from a mixture of household objects and second-hand camera parts. Is it any wonder then that the photographs have that loved feeling, that sense of uniqueness? They look crafted not shot, put together not triggered, and seem both created and found simultaneously.
Check out the entire Absence of Being series and her other series: On Waking Dreams, Between, Flight, Instinct, through the links on the same page.