Photography, as a medium, as an art form, in it’s inexhaustible invention of deduction and speculation, is nothing more than a chemically processed imprint causally connected to reality.  A fugitive testimony to a moment lost, the image painted by light counterfeits an instance. Although no object is counted on more for it mnemonic technology, a photograph is not inhabited by memory, but rather produces it. In it’s endless representations of a single moment, the image is bound to neither truth nor objectivity.  Memories of the past are dictated by the present.