Clouds like a veil
to hide
your latest masterpiece
to reveal it.
Too many months have passed
I wish I could get closer to you,
I felt close.
I didn’t move.
You didn’t move.
I am far away, now.
The air has been cleared,
you look closer,
felt like I could almost touch you.
I couldn’t.
They are sending me away from you.
Once again.
New gallery is online: The Ongoing show – Lady Etna from the window.
In the next weeks I’m going to publish new galleries collecting pictures I’ve been taking from the window since Summer 2020 as I anticipated in this post.
I am still alive! I know, this is not an actual blog and I have no intention, nor the time, to keep up a pointless blog; yet, I liked the idea to update it a little more often.
The last 7 months have been the craziest and the future is yet to be told. Well, being untold is one of the basic characteristic of the future, still, these last months have been peculiar, and might be very important for my future. Anyhow, I’ll tell about this good (?) mess happening later (remember the untold future?).
Moving fast forward to last Sunday, that had been the weirdest of all days, in the same day happened what follows:
Probably to highlight the folly of all this situation, at the first sign of Mt. Etna activity, I decided to climb up on the roof and wait there for a free view.
Two hours. I waited for two hours.
Not that I got bored, I took some pictures, but I wished to record more with my camera.
Despite all this, I like to think it was worth it.
Why?
I heard the voice of the Lady from a closer (still safe) place, the sunset had been amazing, Lady Etna managed to still show its eruption plum to me too, and after those 2 hours, I got to collect some “precious stones” hidden to the naked eye.
I remember well standing at that one window and just watching the flow of life
Dorothea Lange
I remember I used this quote for a sequence of 3 posts on Instagram about two years ago.
A year later these words got a new meaning for me, as for many of us.
In June 2020 I came back in Sicily unaware when I’ll ever get back to work. I moved to my great-aunt little apartment from which I can, at least, see a slice of Ionian sea, (re)discovering some amazing sunrise colors.
And a slice of Lady Etna
To then remember, after a few months the following lines, that could exactly describe the last 12 months
[…] At some point all but the most intrepid – even the most intrepid – photographers are tempted to retreat inside and contemplate the world from their windows.
If this suggest a return to first principles – one of the very first permanent photographs, a foggy heliographs made by J. Niépce in 1826, was of a View from the Window at Gras – there is an etymological inevitability about it.
The camera reverts to its origins, returns to the room into which light – and dark – enters.
Geoff Dyer, The ongoing moment
