when i first came across larrend fitch‘s images, my first thought was to quickly exit the page… it suddenly felt like one is browsing about a very private part of someone you hardly know. like a voyeuristic trip of pretention-less sentimentalism that is compassionate, angry and alone. being saturated with aspirational media propaganda and opportunistic brand imagery, the reality-show-style have always appealed to me - the exchange of the superficially stylized for a poetic beauty of a more intense variety is what is so captivating. needless to say i was overcome by intrigue and since i’m also quite the ‘heart-on-sleeve’ person, i identified with the loaded emotive aspects of what appears like a photo journal of days and dreams. his captions to the works vary from the noticeably melancholic to the downright desperate which echo with murmurs of isolation and self-imprisonment: they don’t feel the pain, can’t look at you, i waited, i’m the garden of eden, but then you left, etc. the sincerity of even mediocre events is which makes it so powerfully tender and direct; it draws you in. the candor and anguish is progressively more sensitively depicted with a definite evolution in the portrayal of common emotion… i’ll certainly keep watching since i firmly believe that an artful maturity will undoubtedly arise from it.