Someone waited for this light. Not for the moment, for the light. A door that opens east. A window set deep enough in the wall to lay one clean edge across the floor. A shaft that falls down a soi for about twenty minutes a day, and not a minute either side of it.
Then they are placed in it, and they know it. Nothing is caught mid-anything here. They stand, they hold, they look where they were asked to look, and the picture admits every bit of it.
What you notice afterwards is that you were never looking at their faces. You were looking at the silk, or the wall, or the water. The faces arrive a beat later, quietly. That order is the whole series.
