Night in the Soul

March 20, 2015

Light is a constant "variable" in visual arts.

I know: it sounds strange…

Constant because it is the light to make visual arts possible. No light, no sight.

Variabile because it is what it is, it changes constantly.

When you happen to have some studio experience, with light so in control, you learn to appreciate the splendid serendipity of natural light.

Somebody says "Good light" as a greeting. Somebody else says there is no such thing as good or evil light, but just light.

Natural artist love “golden light” at dawn or sunset.

Maybe everybody is right and everybody is wrong.

There are moments when the subject is the light itself, its colour, the abstract shadows it generates. In other moments the main character will be what it's lighted and the singular side of it the light is revealing.

In my opinion, another "constant variable" exists, whom is regularly there, every time, although we don't always see.

Constant because it's there, always.

Variable because it changes, every moment.

To have an image there must be light, it's clear.

To have an image that light must hit something, it's true.

To have an image there must be an eye capable not just of watching, but of truly seeing. Above all.

These are the components of a tale, all of them essential.

Something to say, a particular angle, a storyteller.

The inspiration is born by these three "variables" coming together.

And yet, in the most golden of the all the lights, in the awe of most glorious of the landscapes, if behind those eyes no soul breaths, nothing will be created.

Before the moon turns new…

March 18, 2015

Male Shag, Scottish Islands.

I shall see the beauty, before this moon turns new. Twice I'll watch her get shape, at first on the lagoon in front of me and then rosy on the painter's sheet. If I'll be cautious, I'll respect the silence, as too many words have been spent like these. And a lot, like these ones, in vain.

Yet, I already know, as I am a stubborn student and dumb, I will not the tale resist, and with crooked pictures drunk I'll try to say. But first will come the silence, mother and daughter of every wonder. As a lot of words have been spent like these. And too many, like these, are vain.

Beauty thrives in silence, marvellous and proud. Words already are intrusive tale, babble of voices, reasoning of the insane.

As this moon turns anew, I shall see the beauty be. She will reveal twice, in the flowing of the waves and in the watercolours on the painter's sheet. I'll be there, my only richness in the desire, worthless bystander for what it counts. And I confess I'll try to tell through my crokeed images the inebriation of the time. So I'll beg pardon then. As a lot of words were spent like these. And too many, like these, are vain.

They have words heavy with absence and conceit, they have obscure words as resounding drums, they have words too light, may the wind dispose of them, in the same way of mines. The beauty invites and hears and heart and silent soul are needed. I can't know if I am among the ones who are called, and nonetheless I'll go, risking to show uninvited.

Drawing Masterclass di Keith Brockie in Tuscany, April, 3-5 2015

http://www.artsandconservation.com/uncategorized/drawing-masterclass-with-keith-brockie/

Curtain calls

March 16, 2015

I am reading this book and, although I already have a good knowledge of the wildlife visual arts (both static and video), I am struck.

Once again it seems appropriate to ask to myself some questions…

Are we educating people and, above all, the young generations to look for sensationalism (which apparently is very human, but very Nature-unlike)?

Are we damaging and killing individuals and species trying to offer to the public close-up (never full-frame enough) experiences, expecially of the endangered ones?

Are the marketing-like techniques of capturing the public interest having the effect of being asked for more, more gory details, more invasive approaching, more image and appearance, more entertainment and shock, less real culture?

Isn't this walking into the wild to get the best prey I can (even if in pixels form), no matter what, quite off-mark?

Shouldn't some wildlife photography workshops be defined as hunt, even if they don't involve guns?

Some "clients" ask for guaranteed encounters, close and exciting.

They pay for that. They don't pay for the experience of being immersed in wild places, of breathing clean air, of learning something about the environment and its fragility.

They don't pay for the CHANCE of observing and photographing wildlife creatures.

They pay for guaranteed results… often not even worrying about putting the life of wild creatures in peril.

Isn't this hunting?

Isn't this asking for… game?

Circles in the Water

March 16, 2015

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Along the lake banks the laughing wind touches the water.

The stone you threw sinks fast,

melting with each other the ripples it moved flow afar.

The leaves wave on them,

creatures come to explore their secrets.

You know for sure the shape of what you threw,

about the waves it gave birth to you just can't say.

Which was, then, your gift to the world,

the stone that rapidly sinks

or the ripples, its unpredictable daughters?

People

March 14, 2015

There are people who lightly dance through the life, just brushing the dust with the tip of their toes.

Not a single speck will ever alter their fingers graceful profile.

Nothing will stain the transparent tone of their soft skin.

Their weightless smile reveals pearly teeth.

There are people who plow their trail through the rocks, dust is the air they breath in, their clothes are clogged.

There are short breathed people by heavy steps and muddy feet.

There are burdens some have to bear so that others may proceed in dancing light.

Tears must flow from reddened orbits if other eyes are spared.

One thousand caries for every pearly smile, a thousand silences for one tune.

Years of wake for every single dream…