I imagined drawing on a black sheet of paper with a white marker. Black is the negation of colour, it represents the absolute limit beyond which there is nothing, it is the “no”, as opposed to the “yes” of white, white is the virgin page on which you can still write the story, black is the final conclusion. Black and white are the two extremes, alpha and omega, the beginning and the end. Black, for me, is the unconscious. The subjects move within this absolutely indefinite and abstract environment, living everyday life. It is as if the subjects depicted were so many Antonio Roquentin (“Nausea” by Jean Paul Sartre), who with alienating analyticity observe the surrounding world breaking it down into essential fragments of pure matter, but in the total awareness of the impossibility of giving meaning to existence. In this decomposition the “self” is discovered only, separated also from its own body, and things lose their naturalness, as if repeating any word for many times, suddenly it seems to become anomalous, it seems to lose meaning without having any meaning. So each individual contains a universe in himself. Each individual element preserves, and exceeds, the properties of the whole of which it is part. The individual is a single universe that implements its own epoch, interprets it and realizes it. Pure existentialism. Street Photography in its purest form.
February 16, 2019