O mundo de “One Tree”
Passeando pelo mundo de “One Tree” reconheço seres, formas e mistérios intermitentes que revelam um universo íntimo e universal. Cenas que parecem saídas de um sonho.
Assim como as imagens propõem esse jogo de mistérios, também me tocam outros sentidos. Algumas vezes posso ouvi-las, outras, silenciam tudo ao seu redor.
Os garotos correndo soltam gargalhadas, consigo sentir o cheiro que sobe da grama molhada quando eles passam… volto rapidamente a algum lugar da minha infância.
O olhar escondido que tudo vê, mas não quer ser visto, me observa furtivamente e desperta minha curiosidade… E o que ela vê em mim? O que ela rouba de mim? Sinto que ao me observar leva parte das minhas inquietações e pensamentos…
O cavalo, entre a grama e a igreja, não sabe se dorme ou se morre… as árvores pontiagudas ao redor me remetem a um cemitério, onde tudo é calmo, a vida se resolveu e não há mais conflitos….
O voo dos pássaros que assina no céu o fim de mais um dia me acalma… Eles seguem seus instintos e sempre sabem o caminho…
Imagens claras e escuras se alternam numa atmosfera de tranquilidade e inquietação. O universo aqui revelado muitas vezes tenta se esconder por entre as dobras das páginas, que resistem a serem abertas.
E por fim me sinto leve e me alegro ao perceber que consegui sonhar o sonho de alguém.
“One Tree” world
Strolling through the “One Tree” world I can recognize creatures, shapes and intermittent mysteries that reveal an intimate and universal environment. Scenes that appear to have come out from a dream.
In the same way the images suggest this game of mysteries, they also touch other senses of mine. At times I can hear of them, at others they silence completely their surroundings.
The boys run laughing out loud, I can smell the wet grass when they pass by… instantly I go back to some place in my childhood.
The hidden look that sees it all, but doesn’t want to be seen, watches me secretly and that instigates my curiosity… What does she see in me? What does she steal from me? I feel like when she watches me she takes away some of my restlessness and my thoughts…
The horse, amid the grass and the church, can’t decide if it should sleep or die… sharp trees all around carry me back to a cemetery, where everything is calm, life has been solved and there are no more conflicts…
The flight of birds that sign in the sky the end of another day calms me down… They follow their instincts and always know the right way…
Clear and dark images take turns in an atmosphere of quietness and inquietude. The universe that is here revealed, at times tries to hide in between the folds of the pages, which resist being opened.
At last I feel relieved and pleased to realize that I was able to dream someone else’s dream.
Tassiana Souza (14 de março de 2012)
Me remeteu um pouco ao meu mais querido heterônimo Alberto Caeiro!!!
“Sinto que ao me observar leva parte das minhas inquietações e pensamentos…”
Machiel (15 de março de 2012)
You say you see ‘scenes that appear to have come out from a dream’. This made me think about it all a lot. Obviously my images came from reality, always. So when and where do these images transform to the dreams? Inside me already before I take them? When taking them? When putting them inside the context of this book? When you find them in the book, each one preceded and followed by others? Already inside you before seeing them?
Maybe they never had to transform. Maybe their reality was like that. But if that is so, then why to you do they seem to come out from dreams?
My answer to this last question: to me their reality was like that. I did not do much, if anything I helped a little. How? I kept photographing with a camera that was half broken, I knew sometimes the film wasn’t transporting. So the horse sleeps, or dies, inside or on a hill in Valpolicella, where stands a small church along the path winding up through the vineyards. I could make a beautiful blabla story about using and accepting a half broken camera, or about horse and church meeting each other, the truth is I never really had the money to have the camera fixed.
I help a little by photographing in the near dark, I love this time. It is when birds sing their loudest songs, it is when we accept things most easily and stop to think our thoughts. Very true the birds always know their way.
Of course I accept you felt you were in my dream. What would you say if it wasn’t my dream, but instead my reality?
Renata (21 de março de 2012)
I really don´t know when these images were transformed into a dream, if when you shot, when you edited or when I saw them….what I know is that in all these steps we make choices that are not always guided by our conscience, but by our unconscious.
Your camera might be broken but your sensitivity is not. For that reason when you edited the photos for the book you chose these ones and not others.
The images carry me back to dreams because they look like scenes of our unconscious universe, uncensored, with no rules, models….they are sensorial images.
I say they are unique because they´re yours and universal because they´re of every one of us …. dreamers beings…
The magic of arts and dreams is creation without repression, where everything is possible.
And answering your last question… I would say that I loved to dream your reality!
Renata (21 de março de 2012)
Que bom, Tassiana,acho que é porque adoro Fernando Pessoa e sou totalmente influenciável….