In An Abridged Dictionary of Sculpture John Gossage considers the changes objects undergo when they are photographed. His images transform these objects rather than transcribe them, altering their condition of being. For Gossage, to photograph is to ask one thing to become another kind of thing. Whether a pile of archive folders, a dirty beaker, a heap of baseball caps, a plank of wood or a tuft of grass, he photographs these objects against the same background of white paper, their shadows often taking on as much presence as their concrete forms. With so much of the objects unclear—their volume, scale and weight, their three-dimensionality—and each having lost its original purpose, how much has Gossage actually saved in his photographs: only his intentions? Is a good photograph always better than what it pictures? This book describes the objects rather than being them, as every photograph does with everything.