Beautiful, soft, quiet, Paris in April.... the color of the walls as we walk down the street, especially the places where the buildings have been repaired. What is the history and language of these marks, what is their story, this ancient graffiti, this visual passage of time. They fascinate me. They speak to me of love, of place and a certain kind of silence. Witnesses to other lives and times. There is a strong and enduring presence to these walls and bits of wall that I photograph. And as I work with these images, these marks, a series of lines emerges, a score or notation as if they are singing or waiting to be played and I am happy to let them.
© liz davidson 2006-11 all rights reserved