as your eye move over the page the delicate ebb and flow of inky color pushes the veil further away until your brain connects a familiar image to the washed pool of shapes and shades… this is how i look at fran├žois-henri galland‘s restful visual poetry. i am often attracted to imagery where the viewer needs to participate, which is probably only a counter reaction to my exposure to fashion photography’s dictatorial directness. nevertheless it compounds the thought of how ingrained our sense of self is and that the vaguest cryptic allusion to the human figure awakens identity and emotion.