PHOTOGRAPHY
Nocturnal 01
Nyctophilia, (n.) love of darkness or night; finding relaxation or comfort in the darkness.
Beneath the surface
"Man has only to sink beneath the surface and he is free."
Jacques Yves Cousteau
Is it all about what we do see?… Or there is another world beneath the surface of things?… Presences, reminiscing us of what lies beyond the surface of appearances…
“Pareidolia” means recognizing familiar shapes in inanimate objects around us, like in clouds, sand, bark trees, a tile pattern…
Is this world beneath our world an imaginary one only?… Is it only in our mind, shaped by our dreams, fears, delusions?… Is it only an illusion?… Or is it but a glimpse of a deeper, richest existence?…
Is then only a leftover dried-off branch on a wall that we do see?… Or is it a parallelism with our very condition of existence here on Earth?…
Nocturnal 02 - Glimpses
“My thoughts are nocturnal, and they keep me up at night.”
(from MindJournal, Unknown)
When I was a child, I used to play a game every time my grandma took me for a trip. And she was a traveler. Actually, I used to play two games. Both in the private of my mind. One of them, I could only when it was raining or it had just rained. Then, I looked at the train window for 2 drops of water ready to run down and I bet on which one would win their race…
The second game, instead, was imagining the life of others, inside their homes, through the lit windows, like bright eyes in the night of that multitude of houses and buildings the train I was on was crossing in the crepuscular light of dusk of a late winter afternoon or by night…
All those existences… of which I could only catch a quick glimpse… an instant, frozen in time like a frame of a movie that developed further only in my mind, with the help of my imagination…
And on that silver screen of my imagination, so many stories took life… so many suggestions… so many shapes.
I recently happened to find myself forced to a long still because of a serious motorbike accident that let me first in bed then on a wheelchair then slowly reaquiring my freedom of movement… It took me months during which I found myself more or less in the same situation as when as a child I was traveling on those night trains…In front of my house window a huge, vast wall… Blank like a screen… So I took my camera and I tried to make sense of my immobility and catch some of the scenes developing on the wall…
The house at the end of the world
"I am here, alone, at the end of the world. I reach out and touch nothing..."
Haruki Murakami
Shadows 01
"Many fires burn below the surface."
Empedocles
Nocturnal 03
“When we are asleep in this world, we are awake in another.”
Salvador Dalí
Impressions
"I often think that the night is more alive and richly colored than the day."
Vincent Van Gogh
Clouds
“There are no rules of architecture for a castle in the clouds.”
Gilbert K. Chesterton, The Everlasting Man
Polaroids
“It is truly useful since it is beautiful.”
Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince
Wunderkammer
Tell me, enigmatic man, whom do you love best? Your father, your mother, your sister, or your brother?
"I have neither father, nor mother, nor sister, nor brother."
Your friends, then?
"You use a word that until now has had no meaning for me."
Your country?
"I am ignorant of the latitude in which it is situated."
Then Beauty?
"Her I would love willingly, goddess and immortal."
Gold?
"I hate it as you hate your God."
What, then, extraordinary stranger, do you love?
"I love the clouds... the clouds that pass yonder the marvelous clouds."
Charles Baudelaire, The Stranger
"Maybe we are all Cabinets of Wonders."
Brian Selznick
Breath
“What is essential is invisible to the eye.”
Antoine de Saint-Exupery
People
“We become the stories we tell ourselves.”
Michael Cunningham, A Home at the End of the World
Moon
“So you run and you run to catch up with the sun...”
Mason, Waters, Wright, Gilmour
The Dark Side of The Moon
Windows
“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new lands but in seeing with new eyes.”
Marcel Proust
Paper town
"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way.
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.
Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain.
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today.
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you.
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.
So you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again.
The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older,
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death.
Every year is getting shorter never seem to find the time.
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over,
Thought I'd something more to say.
Mason, Waters, Wright, Gilmour
The Dark Side of The Moon
In the Silence, this darkness
"In the silence of the night
I heard a voice
Like a soul passing:
Where the trees brood over the pool
In the darkness of my garden."
Maurice Browne, Silence of the Night
The Road Not Taken
"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both. "
Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken
“This great evil, where's it come from? How'd it steal into the world?
What seed, what root did it grow from? Who's doing this? Who's killing us,
robbing us of life and light, mocking us with the sight of what we might've known?
Does our ruin benefit the earth, does it help the grass to grow, the sun to shine?
Is this darkness in you, too? Have you passed through this night?”
Terrence Malick, The Thin Red Line
A sort of Feeling of Green
"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. "
Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken
Thread softly
"I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. "
William Butler Yeats, He wishes for the
Cloths of Heaven
