{memory and impermanence}

{memory and impermanence}

More than merely recording a landscape, this diptych reveals the marks of time inscribed upon the terrain. The dead trees and their reflections transform into traces of environmental and historical processes that go beyond what the image shows at first glance.
Photography thus takes on the nature of a true crystal window: a revealing device capable of making hidden dimensions of the landscape visible and expanding our perception of the world we inhabit.

Photos: ‘Paliteiro’ [Forest of Snags], Tucuruí Hydroelectric Reservoir, Pará, Brazil. February 1988.
Analog photographs on Fuji Superia 100 film.

{traces of the future}

Traces of the Future
(from the project Parallel Worlds: a poetics through photographic polyptychs)

There are landscapes that seem to exist between two times: that of presence and that of memory. In this pair of diptychs from the Parallel Worlds project, trees, water, fire, and reflections compose a transitional territory, where the landscape reveals subtle signs of a world in transformation.
The images aim not merely to record places, but to capture states of permanence and fragility. These visual records thus become a trace of a time in which past, present, and future coexist. The landscapes function as an archive of signs—indications of the future—transforming into a kind of silent witness to the changes underway on Earth and signaling that the future is not distant, but can already be perceived in the marks inscribed upon the present.
These images engage with the Anthropocene, as they present a nature that can no longer be understood as separate from human action.

[Trajectory and belonging]

[Trajectory and belonging]
The stones seem to hold the echo of ancient footsteps. Mother and son, in turn, give substance to what time has not erased. Between them, the diptych bridges memory and presence, suggesting that a place is preserved not only in its physical forms but also in the people who continue to inhabit and reinvent it.

The diptych resonates particularly with certain cities in Italo Calvino’s *Invisible Cities*—places where identity is defined not by architecture but by memory, human relationships, and the persistence of time—especially Zaira, the city that “does not tell its past, but contains it.”

In Zaira, memory is inscribed in the streets, corners, walls, and objects, as well as in the stories and experiences of its inhabitants. The idea that “the path remains in the stones” speaks directly to this notion of a city that accumulates traces of the lives that have passed through it.

Cities are made less of stone than of the relationships, memories, and desires layered upon them (I. Calvino)

‘Droplets’ of thought on photography.

‘Droplets’ of thought on photography.

I have no formal education in art or photography. That is why I always say I am being a photographer rather than being a photographer [by trade].

Today, I simply wanted to share one of the many things photography has taught me over the long years it has been my companion and healer: all a photographer could ever want is for some of those who appreciate their work—at least a few—to feel the same emotion, with the same intensity (or something akin to it in both respects), that the photographer felt while creating it.

I wouldn’t call this a “generous gift” from photography, though, because my own photography is the result of hard, sweaty labor.
I don’t know about yours.
Everyone knows where the shoe pinches.

Image: an overlay of two of my photographs, edited in Snapseed.

[The memory of territories]


No territory is defined solely by what we see in the present.
Its landscape retains traces of past uses, distinct forms of occupation, and vestiges of other eras.

In this place, two memories coexist within the same scene. Brick structures bear witness to the labor, machinery, and people that transformed the material world over the years. Meanwhile, the forest’s reflection in the water reveals another layer of the landscape; trees, branches, and roots evoke a time defined by natural cycles.

These two presences do not cancel each other out. The industrial landscape and the forest reflect different moments in the territory’s history. Together, they demonstrate that a place holds multiple layers of memory. What we see today is the result of the interplay between nature, human activity, and the passage of time.

{by the roadside}

by the roadside

(fotozine)

I have always had a special relationship with roads.
Not only with the roads themselves, but also with ‘the edges of the roads’.
Perhaps it is a typical story of the flâneur, of the observer.
Sometimes I feel that the edges of the roads reveal much more than the roads themselves, but I know that they belong to the roads; they are confused with the roads.
In this work I try to bring together the photographs from my collection, but it is a theme that I continually photograph.