I felt quite good holding Kaisas Peguero's book, COLLIDE. The look of it is entirely elegant and inviting. The ink black pages are smooth and construct a formal atmosphere. A stream of single images open up the humbling tale and lead the spectator to an explosion of ordinary circumstances. Suddenly, "Vague earthly vapours progress in secret, things slip into silence one by one," (Nerudo). The size of the pages allows close examination without being overwhelmed by gray tones and surprising proportions. The framing induces a friendly suffocation, one a New Yorker knows all too well. The opening page declares a state of nonchalant business and Times Square reveals itself in a somehow intimate way. The blank black pages to the left in the beginning helps the eye focus on the echoing familiarity that would otherwise be perceived as chaotic. The photographs develop in such a way that the overall effect is not chaotic at

all. A progression of details capture the mind's attention which allows sincere focus. Faces emerge and appear familiar, a particular gesture or shadow catches you off guard as if you are experiencing déjá vu. I am reminded of being on a crowded subway and bumping up against strangers- I feel as though I should

be bothered by the intrusion of personal space, but oddly enough sometimes I do not mind.

The book as an object is successful in that it upholds a printed integrity, making it respectable and bold. Intimate details are so in-your-face it is as if you are being forced to look and notice and appreciate little ways the world interacts with every person. The perspective is unique, but the subject matter is universal.

The artist statement is a singular sentence revealing one fact: Kaisas lives and works in New York City. I agree with the artists' decision to reveal no more than her residence because all that needs to be understood is the ways in which the city becomes intimate and personal. My favorite pages are the final two containing one image focused upward on a boy propped onto his father's shoulders and the other of a man looking out at Lincoln Center. The thread becomes apparent: Although it may seem as if we are entirely alone in our own particular worlds, everyone becomes interconnected by a shared ending, "so that the waves can complete themselves in the sky" (Nerudo).

The final pages contain off-beat perspectives pursuing vertical intrusions and matching overcast skies. The black shapes form into the very same people each of us passes on the street, the same faces that ultimately blur into one unidentifiable crowd. The final destination is certain, but the outcome is our own design. Life can make one feel crowded and claustrophobic, but in the end we must learn to see an overarching purpose to our little lives.



* Quotes were taken from Kaisas chosen poem: "March Days Return with their Covert Light" Pablo Neruda.





Written by Marti Eisenbrandt