Synopses & Reviews
The birds are birds as we know them and are birds that cannot be known; they are common and uncommon, whirling and blurred; the birds are dead; the birds are gawking and gawky, tender and woebegone; the birds are dirty and transient and religious and encaged within effigies of themselves; the birds are man-made or they swarm or are migratorily indifferent. The birds hover and soar and loan themselves out for metaphorical exploitation. Very soon, they will fly off the page.
Graciela Iturbide has created a space for these birds, and for the feelings they evoke too. For what is ornithology but the spirit of man and his yearnings, the spirit of infinity? Man wishes to return to that source, that oneness, that totality of cosmic space whence he was born.