Angles and lights, absorbed in blacks and bricks, steel and automobiles, consume a city. Weathered and worn the sky dissolves, punctured by parts, architecture devoured in textures and lines. Actions are unalterably timeless. Intrigue gestures great swooning darkness into the depths of imagery. Blacks, like fists and fingers course the veins and faces of Richard Anderson’s photographs. Buildings, things, places, all with original intentions become confused in his compositions. In their isolation they have evolved. Through camera and treatment certain secrets reveal an endured history. Empty shells contorted by thickness and contrast. There is a feral looker sinking into the eyes of such frames. They ignite. It is unimaginably photogenic. These images are not looked at; they brood at you. There is something removed even if it’s only a ruse or something poetic.
Lines buy into bodies and broad planes; shapes are formed from the once familiar, feeding into thrilling cracks and rags that sway and sound. Anderson’s photographs have a way of seeing. The attraction of SEE RED is in its life and lifelessness. A metaphor mounts inside all the hidden and obvious of a city. Bound by bridges and asphalt, footprints and self. A city is full, individuals are alone, and that relationship forms personal intimacy. Voices cracked, towering rock, the life and death of people and places come together. They become something else.