… I like the manifestations of nature’s architecture and men’s architecture … I really think that photography has a good part of its strength in geometries, textures, patterns and then architecture, both in nature and in which men practice, perform a strong role…
…. and the architecture that men practice, the architecture of the industrial revolution, is very impressive to me …
… here are some more examples of photographs I have taken during this pandemic period … I hope you like them ….
Our sister-companions of nature who are trees also always follow the courses of our rivers, lake margins protecting them by supporting their banks with their roots, softening the effects of the high temperatures of their waters with their shadows, offering refuge from predators and a breeding ground for aquatic animals.
For passers-by and photographers, like me, they give them everything they want: a view of the beauty of their trunks, branches and majestic crowns and their breathtaking reflection’s images in their calm waters of rivers and lakes.
In the Amazonian rivers there are many trees that are so prominent in the environment that they are called Notable Trees and are included in the mavegation maps. The featured image tree of this post is one of them.
Film photographs made in the 1990s and 2000s in the Brazilian Amazon Region.
Trees are also good companions for lonely walkers on the arid paths in life. They are always there to make your paths more beautiful and to offer you the taste of their fruits, the scent of their flowers and the friendly freshness of their shadows to restore our strength in a moment of rest.
[to find out what the path is like, if there are many stones that make it difficult for you to walk, if there are crossroads or junctions, you must cover it all the way; one can stop, rest and even momentarily take a branch; but if one wants to know the path initially taken, it is necessary to return to it and travel it along its entire length; only then will the path be revealed; and so it will be able to present you with pleasant surprises; dream your dreams and not someone else’s; never give up on your dreams; they are the paths that must be taken in life]
Nada resiste ao tempo. As paredes e o teto de uma casa que outrora serviram de abrigo e de lar a uma família que ali viveu não têm mais nada para proteger. Apenas restou o vazio; a solidão; o isolamento; o abandono. Está – a pobre casinha – perdida no espaço e no tempo.
Instantaneamente ao vê-la, veio-me a ideia de indagar-me: quem teriam sido seus moradores? O que teria sido feito deles? Aonde estarão, hoje, as pessoas que lhe emprestavam vida? Aonde e com que idade estarão as crianças que provavelmente esta casa viu nascer e crescer? Não tenho dúvidas que deverão sentir saudades desta casa, de seus sonhos ali sonhados e de planos feitos para o futuro. Não tenho respostas à estas perguntas, mas isto não impede que eu conjeture sobre tudo isto que pode ter ocorrido no passado, dentro dessas quatro paredes e abaixo deste teto.
Hoje ela representa apenas um vulto na paisagem entrópica de um campo de cultura de cana de açúcar, tão típica do interior do estado de São Paulo, onde nasci, cresci e onde vivo. Nos meus tempos de menino a palavra e o significado de agro negócio creio que não havia sido criada neste país, agro negócios estes que poderiam e deveriam ser bem mais sustentáveis do que são.
Esta casa, hoje, personifica o significado prático da natureza transitória de nossas vidas, de nosso mundo e de como as coisas mudam, inevitavelmente, com o passar do tempo. Ela é, hoje, um elemento da paisagem que não passa de um testemunho da resiliência no sentido figurado e mais doído: sua capacidade de se recuperar ou se adaptar à má sorte ou às mudanças. Um testemunho da passagem do tempo, da entropia da oxidação e deterioração dos materiais que fora um dia construída. Insiste em ficar em pé. Está ali, imóvel, diante de mim.
A imagem desta casa, captada pela lente de minha câmera fotográfica, mostra mais do que o próprio objeto que a casa ainda é em si: captou o tempo de vida do objeto e o tempo vivido e as memórias das pessoas que nela um dia habitaram. A sua imagem captada parece mostrar não somente como ela é hoje, agora, como um objeto inanimado, naquela ínfima fração de tempo da fotografia que faço, mas como um dia foi, no passado.
Lost in space and time.
Nothing resists time. The walls and roof of a house that once served as a shelter and home to a family who lived there have nothing else to protect. Only emptiness remained; the loneliness; isolation; abandonment. It is – the poor little house – lost in space and time.
Instantly when I saw it, the idea came to me to ask myself: who would its inhabitants have been? What would have become of them? Where are the people who lent you life today? Where and at what age will the children that this house probably saw born and grow up be? I have no doubt that you should miss this house, your dreams dreamed there and plans made for the future. I have no answers to these questions, but this does not prevent me from guessing about all that may have happened in the past, within these four walls and under this ceiling.
Today it represents only a figure in the entropic landscape of a sugarcane culture field, so typical of the interior of the state of São Paulo, where I was born, grew up and where I live. In my boyhood the word and the meaning of agro business I believe that it was not created in this country, agro businesses that could and should be much more sustainable than they are.
This house today embodies the practical significance of the transient nature of our lives, of our world and of how things inevitably change over time. Today, it is an element of the landscape that is nothing more than a testimony of resilience in the figurative and most hurtful sense: its ability to recover or adapt to bad luck or changes. A testament to the passage of time, the entropy of oxidation and deterioration of materials that had once been built. Insists on standing. It is there, motionless, in front of me.
The image of this house, captured by the lens of my camera, shows more than the object itself that the house is still in itself: it captured the lifetime of the object and the time lived and the memories of the people who once lived in it. Its captured image seems to show not only what it is today, now, as a material and an inanimate object, in that tiny fraction of the time I photograph, but how it once was, in the past.