She 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.
She 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.
It's funny how the lyrics of a song that you randomly hear on the radio or at the end of an episode of your favourite TV series sum up your understanding of a situation, of a day, even of your life. Or gives you a pretty good idea of how you would like things to be from now-on. "May the good Lord shine a light on you. Make every song (you sing) your favourite tune. May the good Lord shine a light on you. Warm like the evening sun", sung the Rolling Stones. And that was it for me... It's true there was already a connection between us, of course. You know, since "Angie"...
Everybody knows about the meaning of Christmas or the Christmas spirit... And while a photographic investigator relies heavily on these great values -obviously for attracting minimum hostility during her festive photographic investigations- what gives her the greatest joy and sense of accomplishment, is, what in the photographic investigation dialect is called the spinning of Christmas or the Christmas spinning. Which is a kind of spinning energy around people or situations that are apparently without interest and which can only be detected by the lens. The sense of satisfaction comes from the fact that while the photographic investigator was submitted to a sometimes slow torture trying to pretend that she relates or that she is interested in her subjects -who most of the time feel equally weird about her too- the Christmas spinning comes to give a different Christmas meaning to what would otherwise be a waste of time.
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?
Looking at old shots while listening to Bill Evans seemed like a fine way to pass a Sunday afternoon. The music gave them a completely different dimension. And here they are...
Photographing people drinking coffee or smoking is a routine for a photographic investigator… Photographing them eating cookies on the other hand is more challenging and a great deal more revealing. One way or the other, most photographic subjects have mastered the art of gesturing while enjoying a coffee or a smoke. Cookies are more unconventional. But I think much more enjoyable both for my subjects and me.
Bill Evans Trio was playing "It might as well be spring"on the radio. It was 1962 in a parallel dimension and the beginning of December was resembling more like the end of March. Her name was Martha Jones and she enjoyed her cold coffee in the middle of this springlike winter along with a cigarette. Cigarette smoking was strongly encouraged at this time in this dimension and that was making my investigations much more easy, because subjects are more relaxed when they smoke. I never rally knew who she was, but that wasn't my job anyway.
Last impressions from the Venice Biennale now that it's over… Surprisingly, the people are still the predominant feature. They are art. And there comes the question: doe's art exist without people? A long debate… I just took some shots.
November was surprisingly warm, more like the end of April… But people are never satisfied, so it was also surprisingly blue, as if everyone was expecting the cold to blame for their misery and misfortunes… So blue it was… And since November was so disappointing, suddenly, there was a Christmas yearning and everyone was starting to think about nice things they could do for one another… presents, phone calls, invitations, bottles of wine, encouragements, kind words, friendships restored. And all this because nothing bad ever comes from blue…
Agent Cooper (you know, in Twin Peaks) liked his coffee "black like midnight on a moonless night". In my photographic investigations I have discovered that the blacker the coffee, the stronger it's meditative power… It's one of the great mysteries of coffee and photography. For me it is easier to investigate my subjects drinking coffee, so I notice these things… Hopefully the fellow photographic investigator of the future will find my observations useful.
Sometimes a photographic investigator realises that all their assignments, all their investigations and all their subjects are not "real"… they are just movements, actions, thoughts and characters in a dream. We do we continue to investigate then? I will try to answer this to another post.
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.
“The girl gave him a look which ought to have stuck at least four inches out of his back.” I am just quoting Raymond Chandler in "The long goodbye". I was in Ipanema again and the girl was saying goodbye. She was not originally my subject but she became one of the best ones, I must say… She will be missed.
There are many mystic places in Venice. Photographic Investigators prefer them because, let's face it, it's a mystic job… Mystic places have also a kind of magical effect on a photographic investigator's shots… they tend to speed up the process of the investigation. Also, they surround the investigator with a protective "bubble", which is also very appreciated because in this kind of work you need secrecy and discreteness. My favourite is the pizzeria "Alle Zattere", in Dorsoduro. It has a remarkable ability to attract my subjects so I can shoot them. This is very cool. So I seat there for coffee or lunch and they just come to me. And it makes the best pizza this photographic investigator has ever tasted. I am mostly a vegetarian, but I can never resist Alle Zattere's pizza con salsiccia & provolone… undoubtedly, a mystical experience. Here are some shots while I was waiting for my subjects, a beautiful morning Alle Zattere, with a very mystic "controluce", having a cappuccino…
This was the password phrase. I was investigating "The woman without a face", a notorious and mysterious ufologist and ancient civilisations specialist who had recently made a groundbreaking discovery… She was hiding in Plain Sight, a coffee shop that everybody could see but only the password would get you in. It was a 4 shots investigation and I can say one thing with certainty: she had beautiful hands.
She was known by the name of Penthesilea, the tragic, beautiful and heroic queen of the Amazons. Achilleas fell in love with her after he killed her in the Trojan War… The Roman poet Vergil wrote of her: "The ferocious Penthesilea, gold belt fastened beneath her exposed breast, leads her battle-lines of Amazons with their crescent light-shields… a warriors, a maiden who dares to fight with men". And he called her "Bellatrix". I investigated her in 4 shots. An Amazon Queen would'nt allow me more than this, anyway…
