Sunday afternoon, sitting on my couch with the camera in my hands (can't actually explain how and why). Few more minutes before hords of kids invade my after lunch quietness. It's the celebration season of my family. I will survive.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Monday, March 25, 2013
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Sometimes it feels like having finished a lifelong experience and in the need for a big change or a long rest. In those cases you cannot regret the good ol' times but think ahead and wish that at least the seeds that you made were good.
Saturday, March 9, 2013
I've spent my last Friday closed into a meeting room and sitting with a bunch of colleagues, shouting out loud and pointing fingers each other all the time. It's been like a summer rainstorm. It came over us unexpectedly; yet, it was refreshing and very welcome, notwithstanding the sense of unease it left.
It was as if all had been waiting for the right time to break the levee and let the waters flood. A big shed (not waste) of energy. A defatigating act, after a long stretch of time under steady pressure and concentration. Things were apparently going right, the team was performing as expected and the extra effort spent to get to the goal was nothing, compared to the "moral" compensation gained upon succeeding. Yet the storm broke and there was no way (and reason) to make it stop.
At the end of the day we came out of the room completely destressed and unable to fight anymore: no winners and no loosers, no win-win (as the managers would have wished) and yet no loose-loose situation but a program on the table and some working ideas on paper.
It looked to me as a necessary step of the process. After all, there's apparently no difference to the eye of the beholder between a bad picture and a picture purposely make to look like bed. We all know it's not the same to the photographer's mind.
Friday, March 8, 2013
A short photographic essay about the invisible and sometimes unreachable opportunities that our lives offer every day. We are used to comfortably stand at the window, ripe with fruits and quietly waiting for our time to come ... and pass.
And when we look down to the tips of our feet we unbelievably discover that our fruits have long fallen down and rotten.