Alan Ilagan

I love photos that tell a story, especially if it’s a story that the viewer has to bring to it. The realm of possibility holds more allure than anything too plainly spelled out. Is it the beginning or the very end, or are we smack dab right in the middle? Is the moment still and quiet, or filled with noise and sound? How hot or cold is the air, and what scents carry on its mantle? What is the person feeling? Is he hiding something, or revealing part of himself when no one is looking?

Maybe he is away from his loved ones, missing his family, holed up in some sterile hotel room and counting the slow-ticking minutes until the morning.

Maybe he has escaped from a sad situation, and relieved to be at last alone, high above the city where nobody would ever think to find him.

Maybe he is waiting for someone to finish up in the bathroom, or return from a shopping trip, or simply call.

Is it morning or late afternoon? The light can be tricky that way.

Is he just getting dressed, or taking off his clothes at the end of the day?

Even if I were to explain it to you in millions of words and thousands of photos, you would still never know.

How terrifyingly isolated we all are, and how haunted is our isolation.