Justin Fu

instruments

fifty-one frames, one crowd, no faces — the city photographed as its instruments: the optics that aim you, the screens that refuse you, the ducts that carry, the passages that pass.

the optics

sticker scope stairs up here through the ring sculpture

the screens

no closer. goodbye light the cage interval

the ducts

the run. wired. up there run it

the passages

tunnel the arch. a way through. boarding over