In addition to the summer exhibitions that will take place, we're adding another one-night-only event hosted by the Bucharest Operetta. Together with Dana and her colleagues we will be having an evening of photography and classical canto. More news as we organize the event. It would probably take place sometime between the 1st and the 8th of June.
triptych [ˈtrɪptɪk] n 1. (Fine Arts & Visual Arts / Art Terms) a set of three pictures or panels, usually hinged so that the two wing panels fold over the larger central one: often used as an altarpiece 2. a set of three hinged writing tablets [from Greek triptukhos, from tri- + ptux plate; compare diptych]
The city i grew up in has always had a special place in my photography (to be read as "i've never actually ever taken proper photographs of Bucharest, except journalism stuff). So, since i got stuck there, volcano and all, i figured i should shoot some large format images of how i feel about the place. I got asked why do i want to move back, quite a few times and in shot, the images are a bit of an answer. I'll post a couple every day until they are all exhausted.
PS: I've also got the whole final project series done, but that's only going to be shown later on in the year, during the exhibitions.
I am sorry i haven't been writing anything this last week. I've been running around shooting for my project, went to the countryside for off road but couldn't, because of worn out steering bushes and spent the whole of last evening chatting with my parents who've just come back from a 2500 km race in Morocco. Will put some pictures of them and us during the weekend sometime this week.
Later edit: we're still stuck in Bucharest due to the volcano (my Icelandic editor went off roading and photographing the whole of the first eruption btw) and there's no sign i will be leaving soon so we're having a concert on the 22nd in Slobozia, in The Barn. See you there.
Well, i noticed i don't post that many images i take these days. Will do so when i am back in the UK and will have processed my large format images. For now, courtesy of Mr. Calin Jurca, images from Sunday with Ciprian Strugariu and myself at the wheels. Damage: the LR on the grill got taken off while Ciprian had a few issues with the alternator getting semi flooded. No worries, glue will fix everything.
I really think you need to be better than me to be able to criticize my work. And you need me to consider that you are. This is just an observation on the comments that we got on the article about me as well as a thread post that a little fuck put up here (it's in Romanian and you should only translate it if you want to read pointless ranting). I really wish that old frustrated photographers would start selling newspapers and stuff. It would make our life so much easier. I do mean to be disrespectful because, as St. Vincent (the chick, not the saint) says "fear no gods, regardless of who they are". This little post just came along because i am who i am and because i completely disagree with the stupid way that some people see things. Old unsuccessful photographers that shoot weddings need to understand simple things like:
1) if you were good in the 80's, they passed. 2) you're probably way behind and stuck in your loop out of which you're too stubborn to get out. 3) by the end of the decade you'll be dead so you have to square with that. you're time passed. If you did your best, be happy. If you didn't there's loads of corners you and sit in and cry.
Later edit: when i say too old, there's a little quirk. If you're not willing to change your perspectives and adapt, you're too old. It's never been about age.
Last night i had a good friend come over, the one that i walked for 28 kilometers in the hot summer sun with backpacks and food to get to Sarmisegetuza Regia. After he left i spent a little while staring at the newspaper article about me. Strangely enough, it never actually felt like anything. I always imagined that i should be happy or sad or excited or ... somehow. But it didn't make me feel like anything. It was just something else i did.
I figured the reason and it's got something to do with my damn high expectations regarding any and everything, from driving to shooting to relationships and general human interaction. Perhaps i came to realize that my idea of how something should be will invariably be better, cleaner, faster and well ... better-er than reality. Reality will have chips and cracks and imperfections and their existence there will create an unhappiness which, i found, always overshadows the pleasure of the actual thing.
And now i take my foot off the gas, i park on the side of the road and stop to think: Is it really that, if you do learn and evolve (and implicitly so should your expectations) you will get to know an uncomfortable amount of information? Is it that the information and the things you imagine will always be better than the real thing and will almost always make you unhappy? Bogdan posed a good question last night: "Is it better to be an unhappy Socrates or a happy imbecile?". It's not ignorance that is bliss, it's stupidity and the comfort of not challenging and dissecting your core so much that you never really know what was there to begin with. I would observe, in this particular regard, that the need for self reflection and the desire to surpass your current condition as a being with the ability to be rational is in itself a rather damning activity.
Nobody tells you when you start reading and start questioning the process that if you do it right it will mess you up. It's just something that derives exclusively from extensive periods of observation and reflection (of which, it might indeed come as a shock, i am capable). I am not quite sure how and what needs to be done there. After the article, after my exhibition series and after all the brilliant things that have gone down this last period, i still tend to be critical (i suspect that indeed, if you are content with your work you stop evolving but this discontent with everything is just my way of being a complete idiot). I am still unhappy about how i do things, with my process and the fact that i am not as good as i expect myself to be. Dana and i were having this little debate regarding her opera singing and how she can relate to how i feel since she's rarely happy with her own results even though everyone else is mesmerized. I come to think that maybe we make art, we sing and we create objects to please ourselves. You're your own worst nightmare and most damning critic because in your head there's no place left to hide from yourself. You hide from others in your art but you hide from yourself in everything else except what you create. This is just my two pearls of wisdom for the day.
I got quite a few calls and mails yesterday regarding the article. And i considered it would be about time i mentioned that i am indeed an egocentric little fuck...in case it was not obvious until now. Just as a point of conversation, i mean.
My grandad kept telling me he has this enlarger he wants me to see. He said he was using it about 40 years back, when my mom was little. So today i finally got down to it and we played around. Unknown lens with no inscription except some rough aperture sizes. It's using a simple lamp bulb for the whole thing and it's bot two knobs with the numbers 1 and 3 on them. Even with an instruction manual, using this baby would be hit and miss to say the least. He is very old and hasn't used it for more than 15 years so he forgot what the knobs did but it was all so fascinating. So i take it and i start towards the door. And then i turned around and asked:
"So, do you remember what brand is it? Maybe i can find spares for it somewhere?"
He looked at me and went:
"Brand? What brand? I built the thing myself when i was young. This is how it was back then. If you wanted something you had to do it yourself."
Well, i couldn't really say anything to that except think to myself "Fuck. My ego went to shit". Now looking forward to trying it out with some 35mm negs and see what this puupy can do - in your face DeVere!
Sunt destul de putine lucruri care au posibilitatea de a ma face sa tresar sau sa ma sperii. Cine a zburat cu Wizzair mana sus! Sau orice lowcost care pleaca din Bucuresti, de fapt. Ne tutuim acum, cum ar zice Doamna Georgescu. Hai, ridicati mana in fata monitorului, sa va vad.
Punctul intai: Retardatii nostri de zi cu zi
Tu ai vazut imbecilii din avion? Nu ti s-a intamplat sa vrei sa le iei gentile mari, de cretini, pline cu cacaturi si sa li le faci guler? Ce pizda ma-sii poate sa fie atat de important incat sa trebuiasca sa il tii in brate tot drumul? Si de obicei zborurile din cauza asta intarzie. Nu intra bagajele in compartiment. E logic, pentru ca da-o dracu’ de treaba nici nu sunt facute sa intre! Sunteti niste cretini.
Punctul doi: Viteza de imbarcare
Am zburat mult mult mult mai mult decat mi-am dorit vreodata sa o fac. Si de fiecare data cand zbor din sau in Romania, pe Baneasa, toti se inghesuie. Unde credeti ca ajungeti? Voi sunteti chiar in acest ultimul hal de hapsani si nechibzuiti? Avionul tot ala este. Tot acolo ajungi. Si dupa research destul de amanuntit am descoperit ca daca avionul va cadea o sa se aleaga fix praful de tine si de tot neamul tau de papagali indiferent unde stai. Pentru ca zburam toti cu 800 de kilometri la ora fix cu picioarele inainte. Si daca ai aruncat vreodata un ou pe jos, iti dai seama care e mecanica actiunii de a ateriza vertical in camp.Pur si simplu o sa iti vezi creierul cu o miime de secunda inaintea mea. Well done.
Punctul trei: Aparate electronice si oameni importanti
Eu sunt ceea ce se numeste egocentrist. Si nu oricum. Grav. Sunt constient ca uneori cred ca sunt fix buricul pamantului cand de fapt acest lucru nu poate fi mai departe de adevar. Dar citesc, scriu cu stiloul si articulez cuvintele. Si incerc, pe cat posibil sa nu par mai mult decat sunt. Dar cred uneori, cand vad coada de boi si vaci de la imbarcare ca noi, ca si natie (cuvant pe care il foloseste mult bunica) avem o problema. Trebuie sa aratam cat de buni suntem si cat de tari suntem si cat o avem de lunga. Tricuourile Versase si ceasurile Dolce&Cabanna sunt la ordinea zilei. Dar uneori, doar uneori, activitatea asta de hranire a unui ego dureros de subdezvoltat nu face bine. Zic asta doar pentru avioane. Ce faceti in timpul liber este fix problema voastra – doar ca ne faceti pe noi astialalti de cacat in afara granitelor – in rest fiecare cu a ma-sii. Dar cand vorbesti la telefon in momentul in care avionul accelereaza te rog, mai mult decat orice, sa iei in considerare faptul ca s-ar putea sa stau langa tine. Si daca stau, cum s-a intamplat de data asta, o sa te rog frumos sa inchizi. Iar daca nu o faci am sa te bat fara cel mai elementar simt de vinovatie sau umanitate si am sa iti fac lucruri ce poate te-ar face sa transpiri doar daca ti le imaginezi. Lucruri cu obiecte pe care oamenii din Evul Mediu nici nu le-ar putea concepe. Poate le-ar cam concepe si ei ca fiind inumane. Cred ca poate, ca si cu votatul, oamenii care au voie sa zboare cu avionul ar trebui sa fie alesi dupa IQ. Nu m-ar deranja sa mi se spuna ca nu sunt destul de inteligent ca sa fac unele lucruri. Pentru ca stiu ca nu sunt. Dar daca pot sa minimez sansele sa se intample ceva rau, prefer sa o fac si sa te elimin din start. Vorba tatalui meu “Mai bine sa planga ma-ta decat mama”.
Punctul patru: Explicatia finala
De ce scriu? Pentru ca mi-a fost si imi va fi incredibil de frica de avioane intotdeauna. La decolare si la aterizare am sa strang mereu un aparat de fotografiat in mana pentru ca am citit ca 80% din accidente cam atunci se intampla. De asemenea am citit ca un card CF a supravietuit intr-un aparat peste care a fost declansata o explozie si ulterior a cazut o cladire. Si daca se intampla sa ne facem fix praf, unul din cardurile aparatului o sa ramana intact. Corpul este din magneziu si inregistrez intotdeauna simultan doar ca si precautie. E un gand cel putin sinistru, acela ca fotografiile care ma fac celebru sa fie cele miscate, cu un avion in flacari. Dar hey, nici Robert Capa nu si-a planuit foarte bine treburile.
Realizez acum ca mica mea scrisoare plina de frustrari si frici nu o sa fie niciodata citita de maimutele care ma inconjoara in avion. O sa fie citita de oameni cu carte, cei cativa pentru care blogul meu este o sursa de fotografii sau oarecare amuzament. Si cred ca poate ar fi cazul sa imi cer scuze. Dar, daca ati ajuns pana aici v-ati asumat constient faptul ca mizeriile pe care le scriu din cand in cand sunt cel putin incoerente si ……. (a se completa de catre cititor).