“artifacts:” (2004) is a collection of images and texts exploring journey, and its subsequent themes of will, choice, innocence, loss, death, and rebirth. it is self-referential in that it seeks to narrate journey by exploring other narrations of journey--the notes passed along with peculiar objects from one individual to another... if the elements were found or created is left purposely ambiguous. each of the four elements of “artifacts:” is composed of an image and a text or collection of texts.
daniel miller's photography is primarily concerned with unnoticed textures and the narrative characteristics of objects. daniel has shown at Dada in Delray Beach, Florida, Common Grounds in Arlington, Virginia, and in the US Embassy, Sarajevo, Bosnia-Herzegovina. his work can be found in the various private collections of individuals who discovered personal connections and fascinations with the work.
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Danny,
Enclosed you will find a little something someone told me to send you. He handed it to me practically in hysterics, hands shaking and so clammy that they made the cloth it was wrapped in wet. I've taken the liberty of repackaging it. This is what he told me to tell you in regards to it:
“Take good care of it, it is yours for the journey. If you find yourself with no more use for it, then do pass it on, but do so with fear and trembling, that they may see your consternation. Yours, Will.”
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George,
Danny gave me this to send to you. Why he couldn’t do it himself I do not know. He called me in a semi-panic and arranged to meet me late that night. He handed it to me wrapped in paper, telling me not to look at it, just to mail it to you with this note:
“Please take this, I have no use for it now and believe you will make for it a better home. Once you’re done with it, it will be used and ruined, so just discard it, flush it down the toilet to that great sewer in the sky. Yours, Danny.”
Weird, eh? Call me and tell me what it is, I couldn’t bring myself to look.
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Johnny,
George told me before he left to send this to you. I was helping him pack up his stuff and he just shoved this stuff at me and said to get it to you, “somehow.” I asked him what I should say about it, and he said, “Just tell him it’s nothing. I just wanted him to have it. I don’t want to remember, but somebody should.”
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Daniel,
Johnny gave me these to give to you. He said to tell you, “We all live and die at least a few times before we’re through,” whatever the fuck that means. I don’t know what the fuck they’re about, I read them all a couple times trying to figure it out, but I guess you’ll know. Let me know then, eh? I can tell the one is from Johnny himself, but the rest I have no idea.
“These stories we tell ourselves, they’re so funny sometimes, aren’t they? Truth, fiction: we lose track most of the time. We can so much have a moment of clarity as these words can jump off the page and read themselves. But don’t be scared. Just pinch yourself, or ask yourself, “Am I dreaming or awake?” If “dreaming,” try your damnedest to fly.”
daniel miller's photography is primarily concerned with unnoticed textures and the narrative characteristics of objects. daniel has shown at Dada in Delray Beach, Florida, Common Grounds in Arlington, Virginia, and in the US Embassy, Sarajevo, Bosnia-Herzegovina. his work can be found in the various private collections of individuals who discovered personal connections and fascinations with the work.
---
Danny,
Enclosed you will find a little something someone told me to send you. He handed it to me practically in hysterics, hands shaking and so clammy that they made the cloth it was wrapped in wet. I've taken the liberty of repackaging it. This is what he told me to tell you in regards to it:
“Take good care of it, it is yours for the journey. If you find yourself with no more use for it, then do pass it on, but do so with fear and trembling, that they may see your consternation. Yours, Will.”
---
George,
Danny gave me this to send to you. Why he couldn’t do it himself I do not know. He called me in a semi-panic and arranged to meet me late that night. He handed it to me wrapped in paper, telling me not to look at it, just to mail it to you with this note:
“Please take this, I have no use for it now and believe you will make for it a better home. Once you’re done with it, it will be used and ruined, so just discard it, flush it down the toilet to that great sewer in the sky. Yours, Danny.”
Weird, eh? Call me and tell me what it is, I couldn’t bring myself to look.
---
Johnny,
George told me before he left to send this to you. I was helping him pack up his stuff and he just shoved this stuff at me and said to get it to you, “somehow.” I asked him what I should say about it, and he said, “Just tell him it’s nothing. I just wanted him to have it. I don’t want to remember, but somebody should.”
---
Daniel,
Johnny gave me these to give to you. He said to tell you, “We all live and die at least a few times before we’re through,” whatever the fuck that means. I don’t know what the fuck they’re about, I read them all a couple times trying to figure it out, but I guess you’ll know. Let me know then, eh? I can tell the one is from Johnny himself, but the rest I have no idea.
“These stories we tell ourselves, they’re so funny sometimes, aren’t they? Truth, fiction: we lose track most of the time. We can so much have a moment of clarity as these words can jump off the page and read themselves. But don’t be scared. Just pinch yourself, or ask yourself, “Am I dreaming or awake?” If “dreaming,” try your damnedest to fly.”