What is it about this image that has caused such pain? Maybe it's the haircut, recent, a cared for child that wasn't meant to die. Maybe it's the white skin, a western child, like ours. Maybe it's the clothes, just like my little boy would have worn. Is it his little body, face down, unceremoniously dumped, like a tyre, by the cruel sea? Maybe it's because it's a 'first', maybe, in time, our minds will get used to lots of little toddlers' bodies face down on the beach. For now, I can't work. My imagination has called a halt to proceedings, no other images bar this one.
“The canary bird in the coal mine theory of the arts: artists should be treasured as alarm systems.”
My blog, a thought or two