Oscar Castillo
by Oscar Castillo from Venezuela
FRAGILE... VENEZUELA
...And the mind shattered like a crystal cup broken for cheering too hard, too loud, too often. It can't fly high anymore, laying down on the floor wounded, lonely and tired. Not caring enough, between moments of happiness, about its fragile wings has its consequences, not caring enough about other fragile beloved hearts can destroy your own. And now there are pieces of it all over the place, but is impossible to move around and making happen again the miracle of being everywhere at the same time to connect the dots that give that heart a shape, a form, a pulse.
The hammer is hitting hard inside the head when everything else go silent outside and the street is empty and quiet and its people is gone to their secret pains, then, in that unavoidable dark hour, yours hurt too, and your other tears roll down again, the ones that are dedicated to your own ruins, to your own mistakes, to your pains and fears...night and day, night and day, night and day, in a mirror house that seems to reduce and trap you in. Broken pieces of black glass reflecting each other, everything is the same again and again, the same corners, the same air breathed in and out 1 million times, the same vanishing memory that time can't wash away but that the use makes its color to fade away like smiles and flowers do when there is nobody to see them.
A labyrinth where you can only meet with yourself, and become a double headed Theseus and Minotaur that, exhausted from fighting, can't dodge conversation for too long, alone in the night you are forced to know you better, to see yourself face to face, frontally and without subterfuges, to click with heart and care when it hurts the most like sometimes you have to do when it hurts to the others...and hopefully, after all that pain, after tearing up your soul once again, you will hug and comfort yourself, as most of times you do with the others, and love more, care more and escape the maze to after rebuild ruins, the internal and the external ones, and open the windows, the chest and the arms until the sun touch your face again and the hearts fly free...
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For many years I have been following stories around the world from Greece to Colombia, from Syria to Haiti. At home, when it was in France, at home when it was in Catalunya, at home when it is in Venezuela where I’m trapped now. Moving non-stop for the next exhibition, the next project, the next festival, the next adventure. Friends everywhere, parties, fun and a whole range of experiences from the deepest pain to the purest happiness. Weeks of 10 airplanes and 10 airports, a constant run towards the next X on the schedule, appearing by surprise in dinners and birthdays and leaving as quick as the candles are blown off, no time to taste the joy and then saying goodbye again. And of course the erosion comes, when your soul partner is away and the relationship, as the mind, gets exhausted with no time to talk and hug, when your magical son is away and the sound of his laughs gets lower and distant, when the world outside of your walls is far away and the closer it gets the more it feels like a menace, then you can only dig in your own heart for gold or coal, and maybe you will find both, one layer of shining memories and the brightest feelings and one layer of darkness made of mistakes and wasted possibilities. But I want to be the shining layer where my son can stand by higher and stronger and on my shoulders be closer to the sun and to every dream. I want to be the light that helps the flowers flourish, and that, with care and patience and energy and fresh water, accepts the own vulnerability and with a soft and warm glare illuminates the darkness that silt up in the hearts. Would like to be that beam of light that connects with other brightness and bring back together the collective soul by the moment torn apart.
SELF-PORTRAITS: PHOTOGRAPHERS IN CONFINEMENT
Curated by Svetlana Bachevanova
A collection of self-portraits made by photojournalists from five continents during the unprecedent lockdown due to the corona virus pandemic.
Photographers are people on the road, living to document the lives of others.
Constrained by the lockdown, many of them had their first experience of being still long enough to begin seeing and understanding small details about who they are, their lifestyles and values, that were overshadowed while they were busy. These self-portraits express their experience.
This is a unique collection of self-portraits from some of the best lenses in photojournalism at an historic moment.
Photographers in Confinement is a project in process and I welcome additional submissions from photojournalists at svetlana@fotoevidence.com
I am looking for potential exhibition partners in the USA and abroad.
Svetlana Bachevanova is a founder and publisher of FotoEvidence, long time photojournalist and curator.
