gazed in awe at the super-saturated images - somehow realer than
real, but simultaneity unreal, artificial places, airless,
vacum-packed realms, vignettes frozen in time and space. I explored
these grand yet oddly miniature-looking vistas, Some seemed
welcoming, some slightly unsettling, but each reel a Tardis-like
gateway to an endlessly infinite parallel universe contained in a
flat cardboard disc barely 1mm thick..
was more than a window into a world - it was a door into a way of
feeling something really incredible about an image. I even had a go
at making my own (I failed - and still have the sellotaped reel to
then for reasons as yet unknown, I put the lot in a shoe box - until
a period in my life where I finally got around to nourishing what I
call my 'more arty side'.
2010 I began collecting Viewmaster reels, Lestrade, stereo cards,
Vista Screen and various 3D ephemera, and started to explore what it
was that I found so utterly enthralling about these images.
was not just rediscovering the beauty of the every day world - I
was also feeling my way towards some sort of deeper intangible truth
about what art does to the sole - an epiphany that lay behind it all
-a holy grail that my cardboard glasses free with a special 3D page
three edition of The Sun newspaper allowed me to almost but not
quite reach out and grasp.