When we talk about a photograph, an interesting question arises: Where, exactly, is it?
The reason for this query is simple, the medium of photography is infinitely reproducible. We seem to be firmly programmed to value scarcity, and much of the value of art comes from perceived authenticity, so what to do about the inherent replication possibilities of the format? Since long before the writing of Walter Benjamin, it is essentially an issue ignored; slap a limited edition on a print run and increase the value. The artist keeps the source material and the audience gets the approved copy, along with the solemn promise of: no more.
Apparition of a Distance is a limited edition of works, but not in the usual sense. Each image in the series is manifested nine times (edition of 8 + AP), but for each iteration the resulting work is different from the previous, rendering it unique.
These iterations may include duplicate film copies, scans, digital & analog print copies, cloud hosting, copy work, social media, and any other place
to position a photograph. The original material itself (4x5” sheet film) is also sucked into the edition itself, manipulated beyond repair. This destruction (or creation, depending on how precious you hold the idea of an original negative) happens during the printing of the edition, leaving only irreplaceable impressions along the way. Except of course, the various digital files made along the way. They will be infinitely reproducible, at least as long as the storage medium holding them is viable.
Perhaps not surprisingly, there is little space for the content of the images after this process. What started as a series of landscapes taken with the goal of disrupting the photographic sense-of-space ends with the disruption of the usual edition format.
Together, this plethora of articulations create the edition. The creation, destruction and partition of these pictures is the true driver of value and authenticity, and it remains up to the viewer to see if they can find where the photograph is.