What is focus?

The Free Dictionary says:

1. A point at which rays of light or other radiation converge or from which they appear to diverge, as after refraction or reflection in an optical system


2. A center of interest or activity.

Is it clear enough? It’s a definition, and so it puts the point on comprehention. And definitions always work. Our intellect search always for comprehensive, clear, well-focused definitions and meanings. We always search for centers, converging lines a.s.o. We do not understand explanations or other things that don’t meet this requirement. And we flee from the “dark” side. But isn’ dark side part of our being?

Every definition of the term above correlates with a point. But the point truly exists? What if, just as numbers, is a pure fiction without any consistency? And this pure fictious element defines Photography entirely? What if  a line (mathematical abstraction, too) is used instead of a point to define this art major constituent? Or why not: a mathematical plane. Or the whole space? Or lines coud converge only to a single point to be understood, unless its pointless? Strange ethimology: pointless.

In other hand: focus does not eliminate converging lines. They exist without the final point. But the lines are still in move, approaching their goal. They are on their way to reach something. They just did not find yet their meeting point. And so it’s not finished: And because it’s not finished it’s pointless. Strange syllogism, too.

Is focus elementary to photography? Why don’t we suspend this single point? Why don’t we better define a plenty of points, moving or staying of their own wills or own rules, and let’s free our lines? I think we should not constrain everything toward focus. We have a peripherical seeing, too, that is not in focus, but we still use it. So, out of focus it has no point? We don’t see it, it does not exist?

Does not have a sharp focus? Maybe you are not there, yet. But keep moving, ride the lines, and you will arrive somewhere you should never imagine.



8 poles

We live in a perpetual myth of figures. Yes, we always count. And we count anything. And we create toplists. The 10 best, or worst things in life. Even truth we transform in figures. One is truth. Null is lie.

We transfigure everything in dumb-downed stats. And sociologists are nowadays wizards, interpreting these numbers back telling what they have transformed in figures. And we believe them, because we’ve been taught that 10 is obviously higher than 9. But is 10 really more than 9? We have achievements, results. And we measure them in these easily acceptable entities. Figures don’t have feelings; they don’t mean anything at all. Figures are the most abstract concept of all.

But we also have a life. He lived 89 years, they say. Did his most powerful memory has a figure attached to? Has someone the power to transfigure single emotions, not to mention love. Quality over quantity, they say. But how do you measure quality? Yes, you suppose it well: it lasts longer. It keeps you warmer. It rolls faster. It consumes less. Why don’t we talk only mathematics or statistics. I say 9. You say 10, so you are the winner. Generally speaking: the higher is the figure the better is the quality. Time is passing by, seconds after seconds, and we count and count.

But where are the non-measurable things? Thoughts? Feelings? Endless moments of fear, happiness or joy? Or aesthetical experiences? I wittingly used negative definition for this: non-figurative. Non-measurable. Because if we don’t find a definition of something we have never met, we define it by its antonym. And the circle, apparently is closed.

The image above has 8 poles. This sentence’s truthcontent, looking at the photograph seems to be 1. 8-1. But are these figures really essential when you face an artwork? Or other part of our lives? Is everything transfigurable? Can the figures be retransfigured? Can we disregard, are we able to disregard figures?

Now disregard all the theory above. Just sit down in a place, where are poles. There could be 8 if you’d like. Or more. Or less. Or even without any pole. Count to 10, and start enjoy the sight.

Or just stay. Countless.

When the land is…

When the land is someone. It has no color, or if it has, there is no importance what colour it wears.
When the land becomes a person. And you get caught in a relationshipt with it.
When the land is not a pasture anymore, nor mud, nor woods or anything else that you used to see before.
When the land makes you to close your eyes, and only with your eyes shut you can see its breathing.
When the land is your sleepingpartner, to know its rest, or your chest confines while it is embraced by the morning fog.
When the land needs no colour, shapes, and it transforms in a spirit.
When you find this spirit deep in your inner self.
When the land is you.

Define nothing

Define Nothing

Just suspend your actual concepts and start another paradigma.

Why is there something rather than nothing?

Well, why not? Why expect nothing rather than something? No experiment could support the hypothesis ‘There is nothing’ because any observation obviously implies the existence of an observer.

What is Nothing, anyway?

It’s not anything, and it’s not something, yet it isn’t the negation of something, either. Traditional logic is no help, since it merely regards all negation as derivative from something positive. So, Heidegger proposed, we must abandon logic in order to explore the character of Nothing as the background out of which everything emerges.


What is no-thing?

Our first approach to this question already shows us something unusual about it. From the outset in asking this question we posit no-thing as something that “is” such and such, as be-ing. But plainly it has in fact been distinguished from just that. The question about no-thing—what and how it, no-thing, is—turns what is being questioned into its opposite. The question robs itself of its own object.
Accordingly, every answer to this question is impossible from the outset. For it necessarily starts out in the form: no-thing “is” this or that. Question and answer alike are themselves just as nonsensical with respect to no-thing.
(Martin Heidegger: What Is Metaphysics)

Source: – p.38

The Rebellion

This is against.
Against shiny, colourful, sharpy, messageful, trendy pics.
Agains cats.
Against dogs.
Against war brutalities.
Aginst poverty.
Agianst reality. Against poetry. Aganst romantism, realism, modernism, post- or neomodern.
Against fiction or documentary.
Against beauty.
Against ugliness.
Against maltreted kids. And cancer, health, clarity, blurity.
Against whatever you would like to see, would like to share. Or you would like to like.

And this is even against you.
And against me.

This is the noise you try to not see.

This is the sum of junk you try to avoid.

The Alef

01 Alef Background

This is how all began.

Two years ago, around march, I took this strange picture. Everyday single day I passed by this hillside, and that day I knew that it have to be captured. I composed a while, but there was something with its descendent lines. Top left down to bottom right. And I took a decision. A decision that changed my photography vision.

I don’t know if this is a good pic, or not. Maybe it’s a pathetic one. But I consider it a milestone in work.

It does not have a properly defined subject. But I did choose to have not a properly defined subject. The subject is the decision itself.

To avoid descending lines I did rotate the camera. I rarely rotate the camera. Almost never. But I took this decision, too…

And the most important part is of this process: I decided to share it.