A homeless man in my neighborhood,
Osiris [photo by Darrell/dst.zero], once asked me why I took photos of expired creatures in the city.
In my mind, much like a deceased rock legend, it still has a story left to tell. How the thing died. How it lived. The context of the thing to its environment. How society perceived the thing, both during and after its life. All of these components can combine to tell you something about humanity and how, maybe, you're different from others.
But it doesn't even have to be that deep. If you distance yourself from the source material, I think there's a beauty in the shapes and colors. I put it in the same category as nude photography. Certainly any nude photography can be labeled pornographic, but that's to box yourself into relating sex with the unclothed.
Osiris promised me we'd drink some Pabst together on the street some day, but it never happened. In spite of that, he did offer words of inspiration and encouragement in my photo pursuits, along with some recitation of his poetry. He's a nice guy, even though you know damn well he's going to ask for a handout at the end of it all. Man's gotta' eat.