Somewhere in London

What is behind?

What is behind?

What is behind?

One of my best

Bologna

Allá por el 1974 cuando el Jaime y yo preparábamos la publicación de Imágenes Paceñas y después de una mano de cacho, (siendo él Jurjizada y yo Moiferquín, no recuerdo quien ganó) mirábamos las estrellas con un viejo telescopio. Se me ocurrió quitar el lente de mi Nikon  y acoplarlo al telescopio, apuntándolo a los cerros de Bologna con la ceja del Alto en la distancia. Más o menos a eso de la medianoche.

Pienso yo que es una de mis mejores fotos. Claro está que muchos dicen que esta fuera de foco… Y yo digo: por supuesto! Y además que el grano es intencional.

Back in 1974 when Jaime Saenz and myself were preparing the first edition of Imágenes Paceñas and after a swift game of cacho (his pseudonym was Jurjizada and mine Moiferquín) we experimented with an old telescope. I replaced the lens of my Nikon with it and pointed at the far distance.

The result is one of the best photographs I’ve ever taken. Some say that it is out of focus. My reply is: of course! Furthermore the grain is intentional.

First Post

For all of you who like black and white photographs, well, here are some. Landscapes that I took some time ago. It is difficult (not impossible) to go back to seeing the world with a new eye…

A photograph acquires it’s identity when stripped of colour. Similar to the concept ‘chair’, for example, which can be applied to an infinite number of objects that might have the qualities of a chair, the concept encompasses all of them in abstraction.

Colinas-4O en castellano:

Para todos aquellos que gusten de l blanco y negro, aquí tienen algunas. Paisajes que tomé hace un buen tiempo.

Me parece hoy difícil (no imposible) regresar a ver el mundo con un nuevo ojo.

Una foto adquiere su identidad cuando se le quita el color. De la misma manera que el concepto “silla”, por ejemplo, puede aplicarse a un sin número de objetos que puedan tener los específicos de una silla, el concepto los incluye a todos.

CampanasA beautiful metaphor for the final approach:

…Holding himself close that he not escape from himself for he felt it over and over, that lightness that he took for his  soul and which stood so tentatively at the door of his corporeal self. Like some light-footed animal that stood testing the air at an open door of a cage. He heard the distant toll of bells from the cathedral in the  city and he heard his own breath soft and uncertain in the cold and dark of the child’s playhouse in that alien land where he lay in his blood. Help me, he said. If you think I’m worth it.               Amen.

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