Una única certeza:
todo está donde corresponde
menos nosotros.
Antonio Luis Gines│Libro: Aprendiz.
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Dile a tu vértigo que mi abismo le extraña.
Patrick B. Shax│Dile.
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“Black Powder” Photography by Damion Berger
Gunpowder, also known as black powder, is the earliest known chemical explosive. Following its invention in ancient China, the earliest documentation of fireworks can be traced back to the 9th century when they were first used by the Chinese to frighten away evil spirits and pray for happiness and prosperity.
Damion Berger (b. London 1978) is a photographer who’s artwork makes the viewer question the possibilities of photography and its relationship to time and movement. Operating between abstraction and conceptualism, his unorthadox approach to traditional photographic process typically employs long exposure and in-camera techniques to make photographic ‘recordings’ that probe the nature and convention of photography. At the heart of his practice are experiments in mark-making, quite literally painting with light – exploring the relationship between time, movement and light, his work flips the concept of the photographic moment on its head, rendering the invisible…visible. Often printed in the negative, his photographs resemble layered line drawings and reference the historical evolution of photography whilst engaging in dialogue across broader artistic mediums.
He currently lives and works between New York and France.
Thanks Ricardo Pinto and Wired
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Ojalá podamos tener el coraje de estar solos y la valentía de arriesgarnos a estar juntos, porque de nada sirve un diente fuera de la boca, ni un dedo fuera de la mano. Ojalá podamos ser tan porfiados para seguir creyendo, contra toda evidencia, que la condición humana vale la pena, porque hemos sido mal hechos, pero no estamos terminados.
Eduardo Galeano.
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untitled on Flickr.
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¿No volverán a juntarse nunca los pedazos que nos hicieron posibles?
Eduardo Galeano (via fruta-y-menta)
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Maldición
Te perseguiré por los siglos de los siglos.
No dejaré piedra sin remover
Ni mis ojos horizonte sin mirar.
Dondequiera que mi voz hable
Llegará sin perdón a tu oído
Y mis pasos estarán siempre
Dentro del laberinto que tracen los tuyos.
Se sucederán millones de amaneceres y de ocasos,
Resucitarán los muertos y volverán a morir
Y allí donde tú estés:
Polvo, luna, nada, te he de encontrar.
María Mercedes Carranza
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