Stacy J. Platt

The images on view in Suginami are at odds with my imagined vision of a bustling, crowded and intense city. It's as if on these walks the city has become a ghost, a place of emptying-out. The light seems bright, midday in character, and the neighborhood homes and apartments are silent, except for th

While we know at first glance that these are individuals idly and happily dog-paddling or back-floating in what seem to be serene waters, there is still this pervasive sense that something unfathomably dark and complex—unquantifiable—accompanies them.

Why do we remove ourselves from the orbit of things that we love? Where does the curiosity and wonder and desire to make connections and communicate go? And how do we find our way back to it again, once we remember, with something approaching longing, that we miss it?

There was an image that I did not take when I was in India this winter, but the image is burned in my memory. I did not take it on purpose. It was