portrait
Her name wasn't Lola and she wasn't a show girl... But an assignment that sends you to Brazil is always welcome. Isabel was an anthropologist who worked as a lifeguard in Copacabana... While I was investigating, the group Ordinarius was performing live their wonderful version of "Agua de Beber" and a salty breeze from the ocean was advising me not to start investigating before drinking my caipirinha.... When a sea breeze advises, I always listen...
Read MoreI was hired to investigate a strange love exhaling group in Santa Fe, New Mexico. It's members were practising love exhaling exercises, under the pretext of the widely encouraged act of smoking. Smoking was cool and "safe" whereas acts of love weren't. The method consisted in inhaling all the pain and misery and the dark shades of the world -or of the surrounding environment- visualising them transforming into light and exhaling then as pure love (although in the eyes of many it looked just like exhaling smoke). One of my favourite assignments, since I love learning new skills while photographically investigating… Which reminds me… I have to go practise my exercises now…
Read MoreLife is a good mexican telenovela. I know, because I love them. So I can't help but noticing that it is based on the same fundamental rules: 1. truth always reveals itself 2. nobody is absolutely without a heart 3. desires come true but are never what you expected them to be 4. obsessions drain your energy so that you will almost certainly need a plastic surgery before the telenovela ends (if it's a long one) 5. beauty opens all the doors 6. in the end, balance is restored 7. it's not real, it's just actors, costumes, a play and a director. Having shared this revelation with you, I'll go back watching Ramona, a great mexican telenovela from the late 90's starring Eduardo Palomo (R.I.P. our beloved Eduardo…). Even the most impartial and dedicated to observation photographic investigator has her soft spots… (Another telenovela characteristic: even though you are just a watcher, you feel affection for the characters. Ramona makes me cry.)
Read MoreShe had a twin sister. She didn't know I knew about it. Which one I was supposed to investigate? I wasn't sure…
Read MoreThe cherry trees were in full bloom and beautiful sakura -cherry blossoms- was all that the eye could see. The sakura omnipresence was so real that it became surreal. My assignment had brought me to Kyoto and my subject was Maria, a fellow investigator who lived there incognito for the last 10 years. In any other place I would have recognised her by her zen energy and poise, but in Kyoto I had to look for the Woman Who Drinks Cappuccino. She was the only one - I am immencely grateful to my loyal helpers Juanita and Lupe, who never fail to provide me with smart clues in order to find my subjects quickly and painfully. By then, I was at the end of a long cycle of investigations and I was really tired… I was thinking that maybe my work was over and my greatest desire was to leave. I met her while the beautiful sound of the traditional Sakura was filling my ears and it was the only music I wished to hear. A strange thought passed through my mind: all I could see and hear was sakura… if only I could speak it too… I opened my mouth and spoke incessantly for 7 hours. Was I saying my last goodbye to my subjects through the painful dance of my vocal chords? (A mexican brujo fellow photographic investigator had once said to me that a warrior investigator always performs a magnificent dance at the end.) I don't really know, I wasn't thinking, just speaking. I knew she was there to investigate me and i was confident she would not be able to… Not with her camera anyway. An experienced photographic investigator knows how to keep her secrets. The only way she could outsmart me was if she carried a tape recorder… Did she? If she did, I would come back only to find out if indeed there was sakura in my speech...
Read MoreA just love Noel Coward's song... Sometimes it's hard to say if an investigation is adjusting itself to the music or the music to the investigation. Just another of those things that a photographic investigator must find out by herself. That's why she travels alone.
Read MoreAll along this particular photographic investigation, the words from ELO's "Secret messages" were playing again and again in my head: "Those secret messages that spill
Into the air from far away, So far away, A flowing river of illusion, Running with confusion, Never gone - it goes on and on. The secret messages are calling to me endlessly, They call to me across the air, The messages across the atmosphere
They whisper in your ear, they're calling everywhere".
A crazy wind was blowing from the South East and everybody knew this meant trouble. In addition to the bad omens of this morning, the wind brought with it too much african dust and the atmosphere was otherworldly… It was also the beginning of spring and the person I was supposed to investigate was suffering from spring allergies. As a photographic investigator, I hate it when my subjects suffer, but I must admit that intense situations make my investigation more effective. A sneeze says more that you can imagine about a person, believe me…
Read More"I never saw her in the daytime. We seemed to live by night. What was left of the day went away like a pack of cigarettes you smoked. I didn't know where she lived. I never followed her. All I ever had to go on was a place and time to see her again. I don't know what we were waiting for. Maybe we thought the world would end. Maybe we thought it was a dream and we'd wake up with a hangover in Niagara Falls. I wired Whit but I didn't tell him. 'I'm in Acapulco,' I said. 'I wish you were here.' And every night I went to meet her. How did I know she'd ever show up? I didn't. What stopped her from taking a boat to Chile or Guatemala? Nothing. How big a chump can you get to be? I was finding out. And then she'd come along like school was out, and everything else was just a stone which sailed at the sea". Scenes from one of the best film noir ever made, Jaques Tourneur's 1947 "Out of the Past" were flashing inside my head while I was investigating this "embarrassingly beautiful woman" -to quote one of "Il Mister"'s (my most famous subject) favourite expressions... This time I could not risk the slightest hint about the place or the reasons concerning this photographic investigation, it was too dangerous. But the narration of Jeff Bailey (Robert Mitchum) about his femme fatale Kathie (Jane Greer) seemed most appropriate...
Read MoreOr is it a poem? That was the question all along.
Read More...I must say I always have loved the "liberation point". The moment when the illusion collapses. Not only because it gives equally good investigative portraits, but because it's most promising: who knows? If one illusion collapses today, maybe another one, more important will collapse tomorrow. Something to meditate on…
Read MoreI felt a little like one… Of course my mission was completely different -and I wasn't Deckard, although she looked a lot like Rachael… I had to follow her from Paris to the little island of Giudeca, in Venice. She was beautiful and she looked slightly sad and very innocent, but I didn't feel guilty. After all, my mission was not only to investigate her but to protect her as well. This time I had to use the help of two of my associates -the Fox and the Mister. They were old subjects of mine that became good friends and valuable colleagues. Both male and very attractive, they were the perfect decoy… Beautiful women rarely say no to handsome male photographers who offer to make their portraits. I called, they responded, and so we proceeded. It was a complete success. Although in my shots it seems like she is sometimes looking at my lens, the truth is that she didn't even glance at me. I don't think she saw me at all. Of course the fact that I was equipped only with my faithful Ricoh GR, helped a lot. Big lenses have a strong impact on beautiful subjects. I felt invisible, totally absent and powerful. Something you couldn't say about Deckard…
Read MoreThat's what her brand of cigarettes was called. They were triggering her ability to disappear whenever she wanted to. That was her special gift. And that's why she had escaped the attention of other photographic investigators for so long. Not mine of course. The task was simple. Shoot her the moment she disappears and wait to see her reappear… because disappearing is understood, it's the reappearing that puzzled me. The mission was a success, but, then, you will never know if I am telling the truth. And I hope that you will also find it hard to believe that I have stolen some of her cigarettes while she was gone…
Read MoreHer job was to inspire strong and photographically very dangerous men. She was the Muse. In many ways, investigating only her would be like investigating at least five of my most challenging cases. I did it for myself. Sometimes a photographic investigator must go one step beyond to make her life easier. So I befriended her and did my usual thing… She was very cool and relaxed and although everything was going well, there was something alarming in her behaviour. She was too friendly. She was talking constantly on the phone saying the word "Ammmooore" and pronouncing it in this particular way. I thought she was inspiring someone. One of my subjects. But still, I could not shake off the feeling that something was wrong. I went to my hotel room and called one of my collections to check it out. I found out that Amore was a code name for a major investigative operation with the objective to locate all the wandering photographic investigators -like me- and put a constant watch over them. The headquarters were in Monaco. And it seemed that the Muse was the Boss. I found this information very intriguing. We were getting along very well. Perhaps I could offer her my services. But I had the feeling that the Muse was herself one step beyond me. Well… All I knew was that "Ammmmoore" sounded very cool.
Read MoreHe was one of my most dangerous assignments. That's why I got payed 3 times my usual fee to investigate him -and in advance… After all, I had to think of Juanita and Lupe, my faithful helpers. He was known to secret, underground circles of Venice as "Mr Blue Sky" because whenever he appeared the clouds had a tendency to disappear. And a photographic investigator always knows that a man who can scare the clouds in Venice is extremely dangerous. So, I had to take double caution. Mr Blue Sky was getting around under the facade of a photographer, but he was really the drummer of a jazz band called "Dangerous People". A job very well picked, I might add, because no one ever notices the drummer… Of course, this was yet another facade. Mr Blue Sky was a man on a secret mission. Not violent by nature, but prepared to do whatever was necessary to protect his cover. His mission was to discover the secret biscotti recipe of the legendary Rossela. Her biscotti had miraculous antidepressant, uplifting and sometimes hallusinogenic powers -and Mr Blue Sky's employer had already spend a fortune to get his hands on it. As soon as he had the recipe, an underground factory would prepare the biscotti only for his personal delight. Of course, I knew all about even before Mr Blue got his assignment. You see, I knew Rossela. And I had the recipe. I have tasted the biscotti. So I knew I should never let him get near her. And that's how this photographic investigation begun… It hasn't ended yet… Mr Blue Sky is not easy to fool. The only thing that is certain is that I will take the recipe to my grave -Rossela is already in a safe place. Let's hope that that day will delay a little more.
Read MoreIn between photographic investigations, not sitting at the dock of the bay, not wasting time...
Read MoreShe was more than that, of course. I wouldn't be investigating her otherwise… She made jewels with mystic materials that nobody knew where they came from. They were very personal and very protective. Protective against everyone's fears. They were working as a trigger to remind to their bearers that the their fear existed only in their mind and in a way that it made them stop treating something that did not exist as something real. She managed to conceal her special gifts but everyone seemed to get what they needed, when they needed it. I was sitting next to her in a coffee shop and I haven't realised what she really did until I wore the jewel that appeared mysteriously in my jacket pocket as I was entering my car.
Read MoreShe drove a bright red 1969 Ford Cortina GT with white leather seats. She wore a bindi between her eyes and she ordered cold coffee. I knew she was a time machine malfunction visitor when I saw her taking out of her purse a bright yellow plastic toy film camera and started taking photos of everyone around. I stole that camera from her, the moment she handed the DJ a vinyl record with the soundtrack of Henry Mancini's Pink Panther asking him to play "Cortina" -if he wouldn't mind. She dissapeared in a flash, the moment Super Mario, the DJ, touched the record. And this was probably the reason why the record hadn't disappear as well. But when I reached for the vintage film camera in my bag, it wasn't there. "Maybe I am not here either", I thought.
Read MoreThe woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep
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It was the day before the solstice and the day was happy because she wasn't the smallest. Her super small sister was expected tomorrow, the 21st of December and that was celebrated because it's a cool thing to know that you can't possibly get less light. And if you can't get less, you'll get more… I like to think that that's what subconsciously made the people around me so happy in that "bleak midwinter" Sunday. Or could it be the waiting for the longest night?
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