Transposition of Winter
Project info

Snowy profiles are thoughts suspended in our mind: light and indefinite, they are not yet become a memory and have not turned into a precise idea.
They float and get lost in a white and impalpable matter.
It’s wonderful to get lost leaving only space to our senses to find a fixed point, a direction, a reference.

Carmelo Bongiorno

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The author kindly asks us to look out of some windows: they are windows of the representation that fix in the eternity of a homogeneous support, the space-time of a recognisable and natural subject.

It wants us to host in the theater of photographic representation.

Like a poem changing into another form, here photography transposes itself into something else that we understand as we open our eyes.

The photographer's effort to recreate and broaden his world conception through these images increases the illusion of invented, dreamt, dreamy realities.

This great task needs wisdom and abandonment to one's own time. Abandoning ourselves to our own time allows us to see through the photographer’s eyes, present becomes past and future at the same time.

We are therefore before a journey, a walk in a long corridor, with many windows playing a sountrack.

Windows as pictures that follow, follow one another, chase each other, perhaps without knowing each other.

And words come out as daughters of those windows that have a different sky each time you reopen them.

Between those words, interstices face letters and spaces that encourage us to prefer even a fleeting look. The rainy views then become firm and softly blue. And the light that runs through those windows eats our imagination.

The walk through those fragrant dawn skies should never end. Like migratory birds that do not seem to know the earth.

And we exposed ourselves to this sensory experience of knowledge and pleasure: we met figures and moments, those the art is interested in.

No truth, just suspended and indefinable worlds put into play every time we open those windows.

All the art history needed light, or rather, all the artistic objects nedeed light to exist and be exposed.

The author has opened us his windows.

Giuseppe Sinatra