....I carry inside my heart, All the places where I've been,
All the ports at which I've called, All the sights I've seen
Through windows and portholes; From quarterdecks, dreaming,
All of this, which is so much, is nothing next to what I want.
--Fernando Pessoa
FOR ME PHOTOGRAPHY IS ABOUT MEMORY, IMAGES THAT SHAKE US, MAKE US TREMBLE, EPHEMERAL MOMENTS. TO CAPTURE ONE SMALL FLICKER OF FEELING, BY WITNESSING WHAT 'IS' AND HONORING IT, THE DIRT, DUST PARTICLES, OR TEARS--WE BEGIN TO SEE OURSELVES. IN SEPIA OR BLACK AND WHITE, AT REST OR CAUGHT IN FLIGHT, THE SUN JUST FADING ON A DESERTED STREET CORNER, OUR MOTHER'S FACE BY THE WINDOW, AN OLD MAN KNEELING IN HIS GARDEN --IT IS ALL THERE. SEEING IS NOT SALVATION BUT IT MIGHT BE OUR REDEMPTION. EVERY FACET OF LFE HAS ITS GHOSTS, AND I BELIEVE PHOTOGRAPHY IS NO DIFFERENT, AND WHAT IS REAL IS LEFT UP TO OUR IMAGINATION. I'M NOT INTERESTED IN CAPTURING REALITY AS MUCH AS FINDING THE STORY. THE SECRET IS HOW ONE CHOOSES TO UNDERSTAND WHAT IT MEANS TO LOSE, TO STRUGGLE, TO FIND ONESELF ADRIFT, SEARCHING FOR WHAT CANNOT BE SEEN; IN THE DARKNESS, SEEKING THE LIGHT.
EVERYDAY, GOD GIVES US THE SUN-- AND ALSO ONE MOMENT
IN WHICH WE HAVE THE ABILITY TO CHANGE EVERYTHING..." -PAULO COEHLO
.. FOR MY MOTHER, IN LOVING MEMORY, 1937-2005 ..
I'll stop at the corner you'll never come to,
and i'll say the words that are said
and i'll eat the things that are eaten
and i'll dream the dreams that are dreamed
and i'll know full well you won't be there,
nor here inside, in the prison where i still hold you,
nor there outside, in the river of streets and bridges.
You won't be there at all, you won't even be a memory,
and when i think of you i'll be thinking a thought
that's obscurely trying to recall you.
--Julio Cortazar
WHATEVER MOVES, WHATEVER GROOVES THE SOUL...Coltrane, Tom Waits, Miles, Mingus, Leonard cohen, Dylan, jeff buckley, nick drake, nina simone, mercedes sosa, gotan project
The Never Ending Story, Colors of Paradise, Bicycle Thief, Latcho Drom, Baraka, Sokurov's Mother and Son,
MY MOTHER, HER STRONG HANDS AND SOUL, I HOPE TO SEE HER AGAIN SOMEDAY
"I looked out the window at dawn and saw a young apple tree translucent in brightness.
And when i looked out at dawn once again, an apple tree laden with fruit stood there.
Many years had probably gone by but I remember nothing of what happened in my sleep.
--Czeslaw Milosz
Non sono niente.
Non sarò mai niente.
Non posso volere d'essere niente.
A parte questo, ho in me tutti i sogni del mondo.
Pessoa