from 16.09.2011 to 05.11.2011
Dark room. Darkroom. This is my room—the inside, the outside, everything: a dark room as the place of the soul, a dark room as the place where visions find light and become image, visible form, material, matter. I feel at home here, and I am leaving; traveling not in order to arrive, but rather traveling for travel’s sake; maybe I’ll never arrive.
Photography, my photography, is reality—reality as a record of an invisible history, a private story, a secret map of feeling and hearing. It is the metaphor of a journey, the beginning of a new mode of perception, of a transformation in seeing and, deep down, a confession. Maybe it’s true: change occurs when we begin being who we are, not when we try to be something we aren’t. That’s how it was for me. Now I know.
It’s only a question of glances, of perspectives: what is hidden behind pyramids, highways, glaciers? Mere traces of encounters, recollections of amazements, lacerations, hopes: the sincerity of my existence. The transformation of my life, source of my sight. My vision belongs to childhood and to the night: my vision invents what does not exist, and yet—precisely because of this—my vision is truth.
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