violence

I have been experimenting new techniques in digital manipulation, I wanted more than just adding textures to this image. So I inspired myself in one of Lia Sáile's Works and decided to try to do something similiar.
The title came up quite randomly during the creation of this piece, but it made sense in the way violence is often used towards women.
Then, I also remembered a great song entitled "violence" from Anathema, wich fits wonderfully, rythmically speaking, to this piece. it's a very ambiguous 10min. long instrumental song.
but maybe other people will figure other things out by interpreting this one out, I'm curious and would like to know what.

phasing

urban fission

self-portrait

Sir Cecil Beaton + Sir James Dean

A manipulation just for the fun.
The background is an image of my own, and Beaton's portrait...well I don't know from where I got it anymore...

Below a scanned image from a magnet I bought the other day from www.cinemascope.com.pt
Can't wait to have my own fridge and be able to look at it each day!
The qualiy isn't good, but the magnet is great: it's almost A6 size and wasn't too expensive. I haven't paid for it yet :D - a friend did it for me!
The guy walking down the avenues in New York is James Dean.
It's a classic... he has a curious expression on his face. The full view still won't do him justice...

Object1426

Experience with the Soligor 28mm f1.8.
This cute lens cost me around 20€ and I didn't like it at all when I first received it.
I tried using it in portraits but the quality was horrible. The optics are clean, but I can't get sharp details with it. There is always a gloomy/dreamy unfocused light that I can't get rid off.
Oh well for that price I couldn't expect much more from it. But this sample here looks ok..

I placed it here because I found there is really little about Soligor lenses when I first bought it.
secondly I also wanted to desconstruct the idea that a photography gallery must be pretty and beautiful
DeviantART does that just fine.
Here I allow myself to play a little and it feels good.
I'm ridiculously far from participating actively with new pictures every week. Lately I just don't feel interested in things that surround me.
I'm doing a bit of studying and reading (Susan Sontag's books- which I recommend) and hopefully a new desire to actually do stuff will arise.

self-imposed limitations

This image is inspired in the image from Carla Santiago (below, scanned from resina -magazine nº 5)
A friend from college gave me a copy from this magazine, and going through it really made me thirsty for ART! It was fun trying collage for a change! The only problem is that I was using the exact concepts & tecniques from Carla Santiago, only adapting them to my self.
The words are in portuguese and reflect a lot what I'm feeling now.. that's where I can read a bit of "me"(they relate to the title of this post)
I don't like the outcome that much.. The result isn't satisfying, it's too simple -again the thing I always complain about -& besides it looks like a copy from Carla Santiago's work.
So go appreciate her work that looks great, it looks done & finished, and it has an interesting composition. Mine has none!

fashion in Algeria

I was reading a magazine when I came across these fashion shots in Algeria which really caught my eyes. I don't think many words will be necessary to describe the contrasts and interesting aspects, both visual, cultural and also artistical in the shots. The way they were captured, all near the local people, and not in those paradisiac sets we are usually used to. I loved the idea, so therefore I'm sharing this with you. The model's name is Kenza, a beautiful name. Unfortunately I have no idea who the photographer was.. It is incredible how magazines discriminate photographers this way. The only piece of writing in this few pages are the names of the designers and of course the exagerated outfit prices...
These were all scanned by me, some of them were cropped etc.. Click on the image for the Full View.

accidents happen

These images were shot a few months ago.. In april I think... I used a Praktica MTL3, it's a beautiful camera, fully manual. Strangely it has let some light in on to the film in ocasional shots. The result is the following. These are 100% crops from the scanned version of some pictures.. - just click on the image for a full view -
I believe it has as well become in itself a bit artistic. Accidents happen and sometimes I'm glad they happen.. Well I was pissed after seeing these accidents, I had payed 30€ for the film to be developed in a shop. When I realised that extra light had entered my images I was really sad.
Strangely, time has passed and now I'm posting the exact thing that left me pissed off about not having a digital SLR. After knowing that this camera has this faults I still want to keep trying and shoot in film some things. Inspite of the expensive costs... I find it so fun to do.. Takes time and patience, but its is interesting. I know I will have a lot of spare time to explore the camera this summer holidays and I can't wait to feel a little more creative then I have felt lately.
Today I went to the town center to see an art exhibition. After this I sat myself down on a bench in a park- it was a sunny afternoon, on a saturday, I was trying to photograph people but they all ran away from me - literally! As soon as I was focusing a little boy, the mother started to shout at him «come here, now!» as soon as I focused a couple, and they realised they were being models for my pictures, they stood up and left the spot. I wasn't feeling like going there and ask them for pictures so, they probably thought that I was some kind of stalker.. Or crazy... Or just out of this world... I really need to find myself a nice model that has enough patience for my amateur experiences! Know anyone?

it isn't real

I have selected a couple of photos from these series, I would be very glad to read your feedback about them.

Cidade

Aqui sou indiferente. Chove e as pessoas, com um passo acelerado, fogem.
Queria ver um rosto conhecido, queria poder falar com alguém, mas todos olham para o chão. Não deixam aproximar-me delas, sou-lhes transparente.
Arrefeceu, mas parou a chuva. O vento é o único que me toca sem medo. Mas é como qualquer outro fosse, porque também é violento e impessoal. Cospe as folhas para a estrada molhada enquanto continuo a andar.
Refugio-me num velho cinema e procuro um cigarro nos bolsos. Depois de o acender reparo nas pessoas à minha volta, em pé, olhando-me fixamente. Gostei da sensação de me sentir observado, porque nas ruas não sou ninguém, sou apenas mais um, com pressa. Mas ali as pessoas pareciam-me novas e diferentes. Uma mulher chamou-me a atenção. Estava a fumar, e lembrava-me uma professora de dança. Era elegante e muito magra, tinha uma postura perfeita. O penteado e o vestido comprido lembravam os anos vinte. Os lábios vermelhos de batôn iam sujando o cigarro de tempos a tempos, enquanto falava com outras mulheres.
Comprei um bilhete sem saber que filme ia ver. Queria apenas ficar ali a observar aquele grupo diferente de pessoas, que pareciam deslocadas no tempo. Lembravam-me eu mesmo.
Quando a sessão começou quase me arrependi de ali ter entrado. Eu não pertencia ao grupo de intelectuais que gostaria daquele filme. Era monótono e pouco cativante. A meio da sessão, saio para a chuva e para o vento. Sinto-me sozinho novamente.
Anoitecera depressa e havia menos gente nas ruas. Ando, sem parar e sem destino.
Continuo indiferente daqueles que me rodeiam. Famílias, mulheres, sacos, casacos, risos, beijos. Não sou nada disso.
Compro um jornal, mas não tenho vontade de o ler, leio apenas os títulos: demissões de políticos, subidas de preços, crimes, desemprego, querras... Tudo na mesma. Mais um cigarro.
Um imigrante varre as ruas, nem olha para mim quando passo por ele. A solidão pesa-me nos ombros, mas nele a solidão parece tudo.
A cidade embelezara-se, as luzes fortes dos anúncios, o frenesim das cores. Mas as pessoas continuam iguais, só o trânsito cresce, diminui, muda e toma forma, nada mais.
Farto do frio vou para casa, onde não há jantar à espera. Amanhã trabalho.



escrito em Dezembro 2005,
por Mariana Agria