Mirante Osvaldo

Free, 2015

Emotional photography; moments of life

From Black to white and vice et versa. I am barely taking them. I just walk beside. I do not want to be transported but just to feel my skin that covers my blood vessels under my feet helping my inner system to raise up to my brain and feed me with a sweetie hug. I saw them and I read one of my favourite quote from Marcel Proust, Le temps retrouvé: In reality, every reader, while he is reading, is the reader of his own self. The writer's work is merely a kind of optical instrument, which he offers to the reader to permit him to discern what, without the book, he would perhaps never have seen in himself. The reader's recognition in his own self of what the book says is the proof of its truth. I read them as I read this quote.

people amsterdam airport light windows

Invisible. Wondering,,, Wandering... Alone with my own thoughts. Walking ... Just few meters. I need to cross this bridge entirely, stepping downstairs, and take the required transportation to go home and relax. I am still walking, in my own thoughts,,, wandering while wondering... I do not see myself walking, only my reflection is able to convince me I am really existing... A proof. My thoughts are waving out from myself... A projection. I am invisible but I really do exist. Others do not see me, But I see myself entirely.

reflection epfl lausanne epalinge bridge

I believe in Black and Light. 12 Hours ago, I was alone in a dark night. The street light made me think of myself. Of what I have inside me. Inside me continuously stays a black side. A demon. A shadow trying to possess me. To take my body as its own. And then I generalised my idea of believing in black and white, as soon as a light from outside, such as the illuminated street I was looking at, whispered its own story. I was seated on a dark bench with a woody smell. I was thinking of the sound from the wind. It was cold, I had my gloves, green-cap and blue long winter jacket on. And I listened in myself the story of the light. Before that whisper arrived at destination, a shadow invaded me. I suddenly had bad thoughts. The ones having sound knowledge of myself. The ones knowing you more than anyone else in this small world. Words came into my mind. Bad words, such as death, envy, intolerance, damage, sickness, war, tears and so many others. Did you already have this feeling, of fighting the thoughts that were inside you? That's what I am talking about. Why did I need to smoke cigarettes, although I knew that they led to a progressive death? Why do I hate, yes hate, some humans, despite that they are like me? Why do I kill some insects, knowing that they try to survive exactly like me? But as soon as the demon reached the deepest of my mind, the white light brought to a halt the upcoming dark thoughts. And that was the moment I finally listened to the the light of the dark night telling me its story. The shadow progressively vanished, as a Fog being blown apart from the illuminated wind. The demon was disintegrated in small particles, all hidden in a small part of my brain, and waiting the right moment to appear again. This is the reason why I stopped smoking. The story of the light was... There were two different young souls. They were a boy and a girl. They grew up in an innocence, where smiles and hands-up were overwhelming their thoughts. They were in two different houses. The boy was in a blurry woody house, and in the story I saw images of stairs. At some point the boy, while looking at the dark, saw an eye, a mad eye looking at him. He was scared and went upstairs to hug his mother. The girl was at a porch of a old house. The image turned in 180 degrees and I saw a beautiful landscape, It was autumn and the colours of jealousy and love where lying on the dried grass. Then, as camera returning to the point of interest, came back to the girl. She was looking at brutality between her both parents, and suddenly ran in the opposite direction from where she was going to go in. She called her sister, crying and not understanding why. Then the story made a big gap. I saw a man. He had smoke dancing up from his left hand. And there was a woman. Both tied up by their hands. From my point of view, the man was walking at my left and the woman at his right. They were walking on a street covered of red leaves. They were happy and in love. I could feel it. Another gap. The same couple, now elderly. They were not anymore walking, but still their hands were tied up by the strength of love. The man was on a bed. It looked like a bed from a hospital, with tubes everywhere. He was white in his face, and his eyes were dark. The face of the woman looked as she was trying to show her smile, but her mind was full of despair. Apparently, the story the light was trying to tell me, was like screenshots of images from an entire life. The last pictures the whisper was showing me, were sad. The woman was alone, in front of a stone, where a decoration was put down at the top. A mini toy camera. She was alone, on her knees and not understanding the unfairness of life. I still remember that this story already came into my mind, few months ago. I then decided to stop killing myself by inhaling the foggy demon. I strongly believe in black and light... The light showing your own shadow, when you are surrounded by black thoughts.

shadow black and white zürich train main-station shades and light

The circle of life. We can't explain it. We can only feel. It is starting as a tickle. A feeling rising up as bubbles of soap going away from the place of creation, and going to explode onto the wall of curiosity. We believe that the world is round, coloured in red, and that the future is already settled. But later in life, once reached the top, we recognise that our World is most of the time flat. yes, Flat.

zürich train main-station windows child urban geometry

I love. ... The way she was walking straight. ... The white wall behind her, straight lines, and no curves. ... The 30 seconds I was looking at her ... her black mood on a white world

black and white woman rümlang

In between silhouettes and lights. I was automatically going upstairs, without even moving, time for me to think. Feedback: Work. Sad but true, I thought about when in my daily beat of life, I use to take these steps to go up and down, always in between silhouettes and lights. Feedback: Emotions. All these eyes, all these smiles, Sometimes silhouettes elegantly moving, others frozen waiting. I am with my bag, computer inside, waiting to go to site, and to give my best side. Wake up wake up.... I was in holiday, this few seconds brought me back, made me smile, relax and happy. The feedback feeling will come later, later.. I still wanna be in between silhouettes and lights.

escalator people london

Time and Hypocrisy. Why did I think about hypocrisy, during this time of the day where the warm sun was touching my skin? I don't know. Do you have sometimes this feeling where you need to walk straight, looking at one single spot, crossing the lines of shame ? Do you have this feeling sometimes where you need to lay down in peace and hide the flying lies you emitted by your own at some point of time? I do. I do feel sometimes taken as a pigeon. A dupe. A sucker, A patsy if you prefer. Eating whatever I receive, head down and blind. I do feel sometimes the need to walk straight, faking my self confidence, crossing the lines of shame I settled in front of me. I also do need a Time where I can finally lay down on my back, looking at the sky, looking at the crowd, looking at all the lies flying above me as crows floating in the air in search of a decisive moment to land and to chase away hesitation by the strength of motivation. Motivation to eat the remain of doubts, and blowing away dust of happiness.

child walking man lying pigeon sienna italy

While the sky cries. I love when it is raining... That was a starting storm, the last day of my journey in Geneva, Switzerland. Later I will drive back to Zürich, and the rain will intensify. That was a stormy day, the sky crying, salty water dropping down, making the landscape neutral, making what I had in front of my eyes, an Abstract! The trees were moving their hands, dancing. Dancing on the melody of the rain and the wind singing in synchrony. I was walking behind them, without umbrella. I never have an umbrella. The rain has to land on my head, slide on my cheeks, touch my tongue, and make me savour the salty flavour. I take off my shoes, bare feet, and start to run ! yes running, feeling the calm of the street, opening my eyes and looking at the sky, again and again... As I wish to stay in this life cycle, where I do not think of anything wrong, but only enjoying the moment I am living through... I even forget what Humans are able to, I even forget the egoism existing around us, I even forget the suffering from others. I only listen to my own Happiness, while the sky cries the sadness of humanity.

geneva people raining umbrella

Projektbeschrieb

From a small kid looking at the windows at the main-station of Zürich, a reflection walking on a bridge, or observing how life is running, how people are walking in a sunny or a crying day, in black and white or in colours, this project symbolises distinct emotions I felt while I was observing around me, while going to work, or being in holiday. I used to describe my images by the thoughts I had in mind at the moment of the shot.

Publikationsinformationen

Titel der Arbeit
Emotional photography; moments of life