This is a question unanswered. And it will remain that way, if I have anything to say about it. I was asked to follow and photograph her… I didn't ask why, this was just one of these cases… You know what I mean… the money was so good, there was no time for questions… And also, because I thought it would spoil my fun to know about it beforehand. It would be very easy to say that she was just a mad woman visiting again and again an abandoned hospital in Venice. It sure would be an easy assumption. But as I was watching her, day after day, I felt drawn to her, to her energy and personality. Being crazy was just too easy, too simple… In my mind she was an alien actor, a person from another world, stranded here, for unknown reasons. The only way to connect to her home was to perform again and a again a mysterious ritual - the movements and their significance where known only to her. I saw her move silently, harmonically, smoothly, gracefully in her mysterious, strange "dance", in a surreal but mesmerising choreography. And I stopped thinking. I stopped wondering, as well. All I did was hope, wholeheartedly, that she'd get back home, soon.
There are many ways to communicate and a photographic investigator knows that, although she has chosen to do it through visual stimulation, images and mood, these are the most deceptive forms of communication. But the important thing is to keep the channels open, despite of the importance, truth or value of the message conveyed. The only way to do that is to keep communicating. What will actually be communicated at the end of the day, has very little to do with the photographic investigator's intention or the recipients conscious perception.
Star worlds are created especially for photographic investigators. For practice in between assignments. Their inhabitants are models, simulations, that exist only to serve as temporary subjects. Because a photographic investigator must investigate every day, Otherwise he starts to fade away. Literally.
My subject had all the makes of Billy Wilder 1944 film's femme fatale... Better even than Barbara Stanwyck, in my photographic investigator's opinion.. "How could I have known that murder can sometimes smell like honeysuckle?" wondered Walter Neff in the film... Maybe my subject's partner did too, but to me he looked like he hadn't seen the film... Maybe I was wrong, who knows?
The Vappa Light is essential to space and especially, time travel. It is the only known -to a very few, I assure you- way to cross great distances, not only interstellar and inter dimensional, but also emotional and psychic, in both space and time, without serious consequences. Not very serious anyway… Because time travel has always some consequences. The Vappa Light Drive has it's own will and only when it agrees with the will and the intentions of it's "user" something can happen. It can be approached in a few very distinct and very mystical places around the world and fate has led me to one of it's sources, following a tip about a job. It was a routine photographic investigation, but, what I did not know at the time was that I would be given the opportunity to "catch" my subject moments before a Vappa Light trip would take place. In the shots you can see the traveller girl bathing in it. A few moments later she disappeared.
She belonged in one of the most infamous secret societies of Venice. According to my well informed connections she occupied a key role in the "Mister's" circle, a group of enigmatic, mysterious individuals that roamed about this beautiful city, keeping their purpose well hidden. Of course I knew who they were and what they were doing. But to find out, I had to take the most sacred vow of secrecy that exists in my profession, not to mention that one word slipping from my mouth would fatally compromise Juanita and Lupe, my most valuable assistants. The "Mister" was not kidding…
"Make me a Pallet on your Floor" was the song and the soft, sweet voice of John matched perfectly with these shots… Rest in peace Brother and thank you.
This is a question unanswered. And it will remain that way, if I have anything to say about it. I was asked to follow and photograph her… I didn't ask why, this was just one of these cases… You know what I mean… the money was so good, there was no time for questions… And also, because I thought it would spoil my fun to know about it beforehand. It would be very easy to say that she was just a mad woman visiting again and again an abandoned hospital in Venice. It sure would be an easy assumption. But as I was watching her, day after day, I felt drawn to her, to her energy and personality. Being crazy was just too easy, too simple… In my mind she was an alien actor, a person from another world, stranded here, for unknown reasons. The only way to connect to her home was to perform again and a again a mysterious ritual - the movements and their significance where known only to her. I saw her move silently, harmonically, smoothly, gracefully in her mysterious, strange "dance", in a surreal but mesmerising choreography. And I stopped thinking. I stopped wondering, as well. All I did was hope, wholeheartedly, that she'd get back home, soon.
"The only man I know who behaves sensibly is my tailor; he takes my measurements anew each time he sees me. The rest go on with their old measurements and expect me to fit them." George Bernard Shaw, Man and Superman
That was "Il Mister's" dream… They called him "il Mister" because you could see him walking around in misty Venice, with Aloha, his faithful dog and a camera (sometimes, also, a gigantic tripod)… His friend, Andreas F., -another enigmatic and legendary figure of Venice- gave him that name, but nobody remembers why. Except me, of course. The truth is that nobody knew what "il Mister" was doing in Venice either. He and his friends, a group of men and women that met regularly in a mysterious place they called "Azerbaijan", were shrouded by mystery. Were they spies? Were they photographers? Were they secret guardians of the galactic balance? My mission was to find out… And I did. But you will not. Not from me, anyway... In my job, secrecy and discretion are essential for survival. All I can say is that I followed him all the way to Central Park. I went to see him play tennis. I didn't though. All he did was smoke. Well, smoking in Central Park is not all that bad, I thought…
He wasn't Fred Astaire… Just a sailor from Cuba who worked as a bartender but dreamed to be a model. I said "Maybe I can help, do you want me to take some photos of you?" He said "Sure, I wish I had my hat though…". "Where is your hat?", I asked. He looked away with dreamy eyes and said: "I left my hat in Haiti/In some forgotten flat in Haiti/I couldn't tell you how I got there/I only know it was so hot there…" . I said "You better go get your hat" and left his bar dancing to the sweet Caribbean rhythm…
