Afonso got into the confession booth. He didn’t know what he was doing there but something compelled him into that church.
– Forgive me, father, because I have sinned.
Afonso couldn’t see the face of the man on the other side of the screen.
– How long didn’t you confess? – asked the father.
– I have never confessed…
– You weren’t raised in a Christian family but felt the need to find the path to salvation, my son?
– Yes, something like that, sir! But I would appreciate you to shut up and listen! That’s why they pay you!
– But, my son…
– Shut up, sir… I am nobody’s son! Listen to me, please. I just came here because I need to talk to someone, not to get advice. – Afonso took a deep breath. The father kept silent.
– I made some mistakes… I am forty and all my life I made mistakes.
– Tell me, son.
– People wronged me and now I wrong people… especially women. You know, I like women. I like women very much. But I only like some women, do you know?
– I like giving them pleasure… but enjoy making them suffer! I know you mustn’t understand because you came into this job, so you don’t like women. But listen to me, please.
– We are here to talk about you, my son…
– Shut up and listen to me! And don’t call me “my son”. I hate people doing that… I have already told you I am nobody’s son. – he heard a sigh from the father.
– I try to stop but I can’t… they don’t let me. They beg me to hurt them. They cry sometimes, you know, sir, but I know they cry out of pleasure, asking for more, asking me not to leave, to come back again and again. I never do that. I do it once and that’s all. Many times it causes phobia to me… maybe because of the other one.
– After all, what do you do, my…
– I rape girls! Why do they ask me? They shouldn’t dress that way, they shouldn’t do their hairs that way… I even think that they know her!
– But, who do they know, my son?
– Fuck! Shut up and listen… I hate that thing of “my son”! I am nobody’s son.
– I wait. I wait and they show up. They come from the factory and go across the woods. Then I answer to their callings.
– But aren’t you afraid of…
– No, sir. They never tell. If they are married they can’t tell because their husbands would become disgusted at them; if they are single, they won’t tell or they would never get a man to marry them. Who wants a woman who belonged to another man? Who wants a used woman… dishonoured?
– But that’s…
– A sin? Is it? What about her always crawling through churches, helped by your brotherhoods, who found in this house the way to salvation and would compel me to go to mess, kiss the father’s hand… who accused and excommunicated the daughter from home out of shame! But she always had the support of the church who forgave her… did you see what she did to me? The church named it an act of heroism because she was taking care of the child… of the little angel who had no guilt from the mother’s sins. Why didn’t she let me go with the one I never met? – Afonso started crying – I am what I am because she stuck me into this life… She is the one to blame! I was nine years, sir!
The father kept silent.
– She would pull my head down so hardly… she would hurt me much, sometimes… do you know how often I did throw up? Do you? It was so smelly… she was smelly! Women smell.
He was silent for some moments.
– One day a priest gave me the picture of a saint…I think it was St. Sebastian. I would pray to him every night, asking him to relieve me from doing the same the next day. I only understood the message much later. The saint was nailed tight and therefore couldn’t help me. What could he do for me? Then I understood that the suffering face would always be mine whenever I looked into the mirror, for the rest of my life.
– But, my son, those women you abuse aren’t responsible for all the suffering imposed by that woman upon you!
– Don’t call me your son, dam it… How do you know? How can you say that? I have never been responsible for anything.
– Now, I do want to confess a sin, sir… father.
The father expected the worst possible.
I miss her… every night. Every time I lay my head to the pillow, I miss her so much!
Afonso got up. He was about to leave the confession booth and turned back to the priest. He put his hand into the pocket of his coat and took a picture o St. Sebastian.
– Grab this. I don’t need it anymore. He has never helped me.
Photo: Sérgio Moreira
Text: Adão Baptista
Adam woke up in a good mood. The night had been friendly and helped him feel inspired in that Spring morning. He took a hot tea and ate two cookies. He was anxious to arrive at his studio, grab a new canvas and use some brushes which had been still for some months.
Today he felt able to make something different. He wanted to leave the quietness of painting landscapes or portraits on demand. He was feeling like making something quite different. He knew that for earning a living he would have to keep painting portraits but today he realized that his studies in Fine Arts wasn’t just about earning a living. He was feeling an artist, so he had to let the world know his art… he couldn’t just keep himself to the portrait hanging on some house’s wall. He slammed the front the door and went quickly to the shed on the backyard where he had all his materials.
He took a new canvas and looked at it with excitement. He wanted it to show something different in a few days. Something of his own, a glimpse of his life, of his flesh and soul.
The canvas standing on the easel, he looked for some paints and brushes. He was convinced that something very special was about to show up. Adam felt that that was his moment. It was the exact moment to show the world all his talent, all his craft and artistry he felt within. He sat on a stool in front of the canvas and started to paint it mentally. He didn’t know very well what to take from his head but he was feeling a new will to communicate the different. He looked at the emptiness of the canvas and started to imagine paradise with all its quietness and joy that was possible. He recalled his desired dream travels: Brazil, Rio de Janeiro, Copacabana beach. He had been delaying that dream for more than ten years. Financial lacking was the main reason. The canvas was still empty.
He kept dreaming of the palm trees on that wonderful beach. All the mix of colours was paradise’s splendour. The deep sea blue mixing with the sky at the horizon. Far, near the point of fugue emerged the heavenly pleasures mixed with terrestrial joy. The tiny colourful bikinis that the girls joyfully walked around the beach stuck on the painter’s eyes with colourful particles that danced to samba rhythms and got together into rainbows. The canvas was still empty.
The smell of the sea together with thousands of scents from tanning lotions mixed by the breeze became a sweet and subtle perfume capable of hypnotizing the most exigent of beings with the most accurate nose. He felt the sand under his feet, warming his soles as well as his spirit through the palms of his hands.
He followed the sound of laughter, the sound of every music and talks from hundreds of people that partied there, in soft amusement. Those were the destinies of all waves, where they all mix into a soft symphony mistakable for a lullaby. He could even taste a coconut juice streaming down his throat, intoxicating his body through each blood vessel, giving him an energy that simultaneously soothed the transparency of his soul and gave him enough vitality to live. He could see Cristo Redentor at the top. God almighty delighted with His works. The canvas was still empty.
Adam felt the will. He felt able to offer his eyes the noblest masterpiece that they were ever able to contemplate. Only that morning, after so many years painting did that pseudo-painter , still living at his parents’ home, did he understand that the painter he imagined to be was completely unfit to the reality he lived in. He took the brushes and was observing the white canvas for some minutes, taking measurements to the piece of white cloth. He finally understood what his paradise was, his joyful paradise.
He ran into his parents’ house, ran up the stairs to the first floor. He knew he was alone. The brush was in his jeans back pocket. He entered his parents’ bedroom and emptied all the drawers. He started collecting all valuable items that he found: earrings, bracelets, mother’s necklaces, the rings, his father’s pocket watch, given by his grandfather. All was paradise at that moment. All served to get into paradise. He ran back to the shed. He picked up his wallet with all his personal documents, the passport, he went to his car and hit the gas pedal into town in order to sell everything and buy a plane ticket, one way, to paradise.
The canvas was still empty.
Photo: Sérgio Moreira
Text: Adão Baptista
Conceptual art begins to have a greater projection in the 60s when the image is seen as a composition of ideas and uses an aesthetic language for the construction of a concept. The concept is one of the most important terms in this current. Taking this into account there is a tendency to break with the visuals.
This image has closed the project The Crisis. This work was important in the way that it helped me to reflect a bit on some issues locked in some drawers of the thought. The project photography serves me this way.
This is the final image.
This image is the result of seven different pictures
As usual I started by creating a blank document 100cmX100cm 300 dpi / inch.
Then cut out the model of the different photos, resized and repositioned.
Then began the process of the filters. I put a black one first…
… which gave this result
Then I added a yellow with an opacity of 51% and Multiply.
Resulting in a warmer image.
A second black filter (46%-overlay)
With this result.
Finally a filter to darken the corners.
Resulting in the final image.
Tip: in this project the images were all made in external environment. It may seem a suggestion for the most distracted but who frequently photograph certainly remember having taken to the field the discharged batteries or memory cards full of images. It happens! The important thing is to be careful and check the equipment before we go abroad and if necessary make a list of equipment that will be used.
This image is very simple to edit if we consider some details during its execution.
This image is the result of seven photographs.
Then placed the image 2 and removed the trees that did not interest me.
I created a new layer where I added a blue filter with the following values:
Then cut out and added to the image each of the 5 models.
I created a new layer where I put a yellow filter:
New layer with black filter:
One more layer to darken the lower corners:
And a new layer with yellow filter dimmed to give more warmth to the image:
Finally I added a gray texture:
Tip: In this image I needed to use a background and overlay it a series of images. Thinking in some detail when performing the images can save time in editing. Shoot with a tripod whenever you need to perform image overlays to facilitate their integration in the final image.
In the beginning any photography lover or future professional have a common way to go. Over ten years as a photographer I have seen many initiations of friends and colleagues in the photograph. The truth is that I have to agree when people say that there are no shortcuts in the process of training in photography. You have to know all the rules and how to apply them without difficulty. The learning curve does not change even though the motivation and availability may influence the duration of the same. Throughout your photographic adventure you gonna taking options that will outline the type of equipment you’ll acquire and kind of photos you gonna do. The result of this learning will determine your method and your way of being in the world of photography. And then, finally, you can free yourself and then, the equipment and technique become just an accessory you use to a greater purpose and understand that all rules can be broken.
This image is one of those examples in which each the party is greater than the sum of its result. This image was born from a series of photographs that are strong individually but are diluted and lose strength when joined. In this case I had to remind myself that the message was the main goal and the end result was what I had planned with this image serving this purpose. I tried to stay objective and not give in to the temptation to make three separate images. However realized some unplanned changes that are also part of the process.
This is the final image:
Then created a new document 100cmX100cm 300 dpi/inch where I placed, resized and clipped the image 1.
Then as the lower right side of the image was darker I selected part of the left side and used the option Layer> New> Layer via Copy and dragged to the left side. Then used the Edit> Free Transform (CMD+T) adjusted in a way to adjust the shadows and erased some parts so as not to notice the transition between layers.
Then cut out the model and resized the image 2.
I did the same with the models of the pictures 3 and 4. In this step I had some care with the shadows of the trees and the models.
I created a new layer which I painted black using the following values:
This was the image after removing with the rubber some opacity to clear what I wanted.
I created a new layer with a yellow color and used these values.
Looked like this:
After I created a new layer I painted black to darken the top of the image:
Finally I put a new black filter to help me with the final composition.
I removed the parts that interested me to clear and I get the image with the final result.
So much was so well written about love than any attempt on my part to write something eloquent eventually wouldn’t be beautiful to see . Also because I think that in these things about love the important thing is what we feel and the translation of that feeling in words is always a massive understatement.
I try to have simple and clear ideas about what surrounds me. I particularly like a sentence of Fernando Pessoa that briefly describes what seems to be a brief but accurate description about this topic. He says that love “is that [feeling] that when two persons are together, not looking or touching involves them as a cloud.” This cloud may have various shades and sizes because love takes many forms. We must embrace each one with the force of life because it seems to me that is truly the essence of our passage. The family, lover, friends, co-workers, the stranger in the Coffee, God, or even an idea. All have a place reserved in the many clouds that are passing over our heads.
Platonic from the project LOVE