traces of summer

the day is gray,
the autumn has been blowing in for a while
carrying drops and colored leaves,

summer is gone
the trees are already preparing themselves
for the waiting season

raindrops and the imminent cold
had made the colors ran down
as tears
over the face of summer
over an evanescent picture
of clare calypso-waters

summer is gone...

destiny

churches everywhere,

hundred of crosses,  

different interpretations of Christ.

a suffering man, 

an agonized man, 

a bleeding man,

crucified, 

starved, 

tired, 

overwhelmed.

a male body is emerging off the bronze door, 

he seems like being created or vanishing, 

melting back in the metal, 

floating and at the same time, 

trapped in a thick and heavy magma

a cross is embossed  on his chest.

his body hasn't neither feet nor hands

he is not crucified 

he has a cross as a stigma deep carved on him,

soaring and dividing his chest

sealing, marking, wounding him

and leaving his body for ever 

as a reminder, a gesture of passion.

(pictures: the door of the Basilica of St. Mary of the Angels and the Martyrs
in Rome, created by Igor Mitoraj in 2006)

reminder

Rome was dumped and hot that summer afternoon.
I decided anyway to go to the famous graveyard called "Cimitero del Verano" and take some pictures of the sculptures that symbolized dead and sorrow and the most frightened feeling of the human race,
the unknown.

Strong shadows fall almost as sharp knives creating a landscape  that reminded me nightmares from my childhood when the sense of dead seemed to be most remote but always culturally present.

Now,
confronting my self with these images at my age resulted in another kind of feeling,
it becomes most present,
something that it would happen not to far away.

I wasn't afraid
but sadness, heaviness and displeasure invaded me 
and I felt tired.

(the pictures where taken at Cimitero del Verano, Rome, with an iPhone)

street-art in Rome

It was the time when still the great exhibition of Caravaggio's paintings were on, at "Le Scuderie del Quirinale" when I found this beautiful piece of painting on the sidewalk of one of the most busiest streets of Rome.

Made with crayons on the rough surface of the arid sidewalk the delicate faces reminded me baroque art.

MAXXI—the museum of modern arts of the 21st century, Rome

It's a fantastic building!

Designed by Zaha Hadid gives a beautiful frame to the contemporary art. I don't know if the exhibition that has been curated for the opening is as important or good as the building itself but in any case it's worth a journey to Rome.

/ʃ'eɪd/

different shades,

different feelings,

different approaches,

different message.

grafitti

pretty good sources of inspiration
I like the idea of painting or writing on walls
it gets another perspective to what you are doing
and it has been done since before history (i e Altamira's)

an image

simple + lines + curves + nature + time


fading, gradually becoming paler
as sunlight taking away the brightness
as the time that fade away life 
slowly less clear until it disappears... 

remembering the winter

a simple glorious winter in Stockholm

a white shade covering shapes and textures

to just suspecting a sleeping nature

waiting, dreaming, breathing

but slowly 

soundless

and cold

traces of winter

a long and cold winter in Stockholm has left its traces everywhere in different shapes creating ice sculptures everywhere

capturing a frozen nature

a foggy early morning had dressed the naked trees and the rest of the autumn with tiny glittering snowflakes transforming nature in a collection of patterns.

twigs, forgotten leaves, a stair, a fence.

everything changes shapes. it's a landscape in black and white where forms are as simple as geometry or sometimes, as music notes on a white sheet.

i took the pictures and then played with the forms to find patterns underneath.

sources of inspiration

inspiration!

we were talking about that

and we said that there is not any true way to find it
neither, is there a place to go to to get inspiration.

we do sometimes have a spa where we feel like it's easier

to communicate with deepest thoughts—but there is always the possibility that there nothing happens.

i find inspiration and images mostly without seeking 
the sources of it just happen to be there,

around the corner,

when walking,

talking,

running fast to get the bus or just

in your way to the gym on a cold, icy winter day.

it was then, when I was steering at the side walk to sort out the the ice spots trying not to slip down, when i saw something black on a concave white board and i have to go back to check what it was.

i couldn't realize what the things were

(the rest of a Christmas decoration?)

but the garbage reminded me a sculpture, something i saw in Venice's Biennial years ago—or was at Louisiana?

however i grab my iPhone and took a picture of the "sculpture" to be able to see what i could do with it—an illustration, part of a book on textures, things we don't see and so on.

then,

the source of inspiration was found on the sidewalk among assorted garbage,

rests of Christmas decoration,

quite unexpected...

you just have to open your eyes and discover... see...

a frozen second

I never wanted to be my self.
Not even at the early years I accepted the person I was at that moment.
The memories that I have, tell me noting about being happy or having lust for anything.
Not even hope.
I never thought about having a future or how this future would be.
Everything was more like a frozen second of life,
the detention of the living moment,
nihilism.

I'm pretty aware that we live is a timeline that it's not connected with other moments other than with a memory and the capacity of making connections between those tiny images of life.

Since I have never accepted the facts of being my self, I have passed through this chain of dissolving moments
waiting for nothing,
forcing my self to have hope
even when I know that the hope I have is just an invention
an image put together with pieces of nothing
a chain of frozen seconds without connection ...