Soy Ateo

Ateísmo, en su noción etimológica, se refiere a la falta de creencia en la existencia de cualquier dios.



Me sorprendió una vieja amiga de la infancia que reapareció luego de varios años, gracias a Facebook. “Alejo, ¿vos ateo? No me podés decir eso!!!”.

En realidad yo no se lo dije, estaba en mi perfil…

Pero bueno, ella es católica, madre de dos hijas que van al mismo colegio al que yo fui, católico. Hicimos el curso de confirmación juntos.

-Las cosas de la vida… -le contesté.

Joseph Koudelka - parte 2

"What matters is that the photos exist. Not that they be published or that people admire me. To be known can even be a nuisance. I don't like to feel like the center of attention."



"I lived all the time with the photos of the gypsies. If you live all the time with a thing, and you go on looking at it, you end up either by getting tired of it, or by being sure that it satisfies you. For me a good photo is one that I can live with. It's like living with good music or a good person."



"The philosophic aspects of photography don't interest me. What interests me are its limits. I always photograph the same people, the same situations, because I want to know the limits of those people, of those situations, and also my own limits. It's not so important that I succeed in making a photo the first time, nor the fifth, nor the tenth."

Maestros de la fotografía: Joseph Koudelka extracto de entrevista de Frank Horvat

Born in Biskovice (Czechoslovakia), January 10, 1938.
Studies aeronautical engineering.
1961: first voyage abroad (Italy).
Meets Anna Farova, who introduces him to the history of photography.
1961-1967: photographs the gypsies of Czechoslovakia and makes theater
photographs while earning a living as an aeronautical engineer.
1967: decides to devote himself exclusively to photography.
1968: reportage on the occupation of Prague by the Soviet army.
1970: leaves Czechoslovakia.
1971: member of Magnum.
Lives in Paris.


"I do not try to understand. For me, the most beautiful thing is to wake up, to go out, and to look. At everything. Without anyone telling me "You should look at this or that." I look at everything and I try to find what interests me, because when I set out, I don't yet know what will interest me. I try to react to what comes up. Afterwards, I may come back to it, perhaps every year, ten years in a row, and I will end by understanding."



"I have had the good fortune of always being able to do what I wanted, never working for others. Maybe it is a silly principle, but the idea that no one can buy me is important for me. I refuse assignments, even for projects that I have decided to do anyhow. It is somewhat the same with my books. When my first book, the one on the gypsies, was published, it was hard for me to accept the idea that I could no longer choose the people to whom I would show my photos, that any one could buy them."



"Questions about the world are difficult for me. I mistrust words. I come from a system where words have no value. I got used to not listening much to what people say. Or rather, I listen to them, but I give less importance to what they say, than to the way in which they say it. When someone declares: "I am a communist", (or a socialist, or an anarchist), that means nothing to me. What counts is what people do."

Rama

Tomé esta imagen después de una larga recorrida. Estábamos con Julián sentados en una mesita de un café en la calle, esperando a ser atendidos, cuando miré hacia arriba y vi esa rama.
Su forma me sedujo instantáneamente.

Recuerdo que enseguida pensé "es una buena toma para hacer con película".



Tiempo después volví al lugar, con la Hasselblad cargada con Tri-x. La toma había desaparecido. La rama creció, cambió de forma, etc.

Como el río de Heráclito...

Barriletes

No recuerdo bien cuándo fue que nació mi pasión por los barriletes... Seguramente era muy chico.

Uno de los primeros recuerdos que tengo es cuando mi padre me enseñó a fabricar una "taraza", creo que ese era el nombre...

Era un modelo muy simple, dos varas de caña formando una X, atadas con hilo en el centro, y con una vuelta de hilo pasando por cada una de las puntas. Papel barrilete y un poco de "plasticola" hacían el resto.

Después se le ponía el "tiro", formando ángulo recto perpendicular al frente, y con unos trapos anudados la cola. Listo. A volar.

Algunos años después construiría aviones de madera balsa, pero eso es tema para otro posteo.