Journal
Fragments of a creative life
On the train - Life as it passes
The simplicity and minimalism of certain compositions, the quiet power of a red filter placed in front of a lens.
The simplicity and minimalism of certain compositions, the quiet power of a red filter placed in front of a lens.
The simplicity and minimalism of certain compositions, the quiet power of a red filter placed in front of a lens.
People often laugh when I say I enjoy traveling by train. We live in a culture of the NOW (or even YESTERDAY), where everything is compressed and accelerated, and we are slowly unlearning how to experience time itself.
For me, trains do the opposite. They restore a sense of distance and duration. They create a space where I can simply look out of the window and let thoughts drift, where observation becomes a natural form of reflection and, inevitably, a source of work.
Of course, this is usually accompanied by a good (bad), absurdly expensive coffee kindly not sponsored by the onboard bar.
Beyond that, trains are also an extraordinary study of human behaviour: postures, rhythms, clothing, micro-gestures, even the poetry of people trying (and failing) to sleep comfortably. A moving laboratory for quick gesture drawing and for quietly observing
life as it passes.
Somewhere in Arles, late afternoon…
It was obviously all in my head, but I could not stop thinking about how sometimes a photograph captures more than a moment. Sometimes it sparks a small story that stays with you long after you’ve walked away.
In the south of France, the late afternoon light set the stage for a little story.
I saw this little girl standing quietly at the window of an old building, looking out into the street below. She seemed soo small inside the large frame, with her little tiny cute face emerging in the light.
She seemed almost swallowed by the darkness of the room behind her.
While immediately taking my camera, that old heavy amazing Canon body and lens ( which is part of history now) I kept wondering why she was alone. Was she waiting for her parents to come home ?
watching the street pass slowly beneath her, listening for familiar footsteps or distant voices ?
What unsettled me most was the broken glass in the window. It changed the feeling of the scene completely. Suddenly the image no longer felt only quiet or cinematic, but fragile. Unsafe, somehow.
I kept wondering. I kept clicking.
are you safe there?
It was obviously all in my head, but I could not stop thinking about how sometimes a photograph captures more than a moment. Sometimes it sparks a small story that stays with you long after you’ve walked away.
Elena - a few shots
I do not generally do portraits but sometimes, with the right subject, it’s good to stop, look, think and enjoy the beauty of light and people.
I do not generally do portraits but sometimes, with the right subject, it’s good to stop, look, think and enjoy the beauty of light and people.
Good memories of my years in New York, and what this beautiful city brought and represented in my life.
