Docs from Designldg

With Our Own Dust

nobody@ipernity.com (Designldg) — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 19:54:47 +0000

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“Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, like diamonds we are cut with our own dust.”
(John Webster - English Writer and Playwright, 1580-1632)

This will be the last picture which belongs to the series shot in my street in Varanasi (Benaras) while four men were emptying plaster bags from a truck.
I might upload more in this set later.
Those poor guys have to work with dust all day and no one seems to care about the danger on their lungs.
This is why they kept on reminding me “butoh” dancers performing with white-body make-up in a choreography showing the suffering of Hiroshima's atomic bomb.
Of course it is easy to compare this concept of art to those workers living in dust.
My attempt was to show a kind of beauty among what I find a painful condition in order to attract the attention on those men’s fate.

Thank you again for all your mails and comments on this set.

The Dust of Daily Life

nobody@ipernity.com (Designldg) — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 09:21:02 +0000

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“The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls.”
(Pablo Picasso - Spanish Painter, 1881-1973)

This is a close-up of one of those four men who were emptying plaster bags from a truck in my street in Varanasi (Benaras).
It was very dusty, although they reminded me “butoh” dancers performing with white-body makeup.
This japanese contemporary dance came after the second world war and among several things the choreography is a remembrance of the suffering of Hiroshima's atomic bomb.
It raises the question of how is it still possible to dance after such a thing and in some ways it is easy to compare this concept of art to those workers living in dust.

A Mass of Dust

nobody@ipernity.com (Designldg) — Wed, 02 Dec 2009 18:13:19 +0000

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“A mass of dust, world's momentary slave, Is man, in state of our old Adam made, Soon born to die, soon flourishing to fade.”
(Barnabe Barne - English poet, 1569—1609)

This is a close-up of one of those four men who were emptying plaster bags from a truck in my street in Varanasi (Benaras).
It was very dusty, although they reminded me “butoh” dancers performing with white-body makeup.
This japanese contemporary dance came after the second world war and among several things the choreography is a remembrance of the suffering of Hiroshima's atomic bomb.
It raises the question of how is it still possible to dance after such a thing and in some ways it is easy to compare this concept of art to those workers living in dust.

Like Dust, I'll Rise

nobody@ipernity.com (Designldg) — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 05:45:59 +0000

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“You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.”
(Maya Angelou quotes - American Poet, b.1928)

This picture belongs to the series shot in my street in Varanasi (Benaras) while four men were emptying plaster bags from a truck.
It was very dusty, although they reminded me “butoh” dancers performing with white-body makeup.
This japanese contemporary dance came after the second world war and among several things the choreography is a remembrance of the suffering of Hiroshima's atomic bomb.
It raises the question of how is it still possible to dance after such a thing and in some ways it is easy to compare this concept of art to those workers living in dust.

Fear in a Handful of Dust

nobody@ipernity.com (Designldg) — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 06:11:37 +0000

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“And I will show you something different from either your shadow at morning striding behind you or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust.”
(T.S. Eliot - American born English Playwright and Poet , 1888-1965)

This picture belongs to the series shot in my street in Varanasi (Benaras) while four men were emptying plaster bags from a truck.
It was very dusty, although they reminded me “butoh” dancers performing with white-body makeup.
This japonese contemporary dance came after the second world war and among several things the choreography is a remembrance of the suffering of Hiroshima's atomic bomb.
It rises the question of how is it still possible to dance after such a thing and in some ways it is easy to compare this concept of art to those workers living in dust.

Thank you all for your many comments on this set of pictures.

All We Are Is Dust In The Wind

nobody@ipernity.com (Designldg) — Sun, 29 Nov 2009 03:48:26 +0000

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“I close my eyes, only for a moment, and the moment's gone
All my dreams, pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Dust in the wind, all they are is dust in the wind...”
(“Dust In The Wind”, Kansas - Lyrics by Kerry Livgren)

This picture belongs to the series shot in my street in Varanasi (Benaras) while four men were emptying plaster bags from a truck.
It was very dusty, although they reminded me “butoh” dancers performing with white-body makeup.
This japonese contemporary dance came after the second world war and among several things the choreography is a remembrance of the suffering of Hiroshima's atomic bomb.
It rises the question of how is it still possible to dance after such a thing and in some ways it is easy to compare this concept of art to those workers living in dust.

Dust of the Dust

nobody@ipernity.com (Designldg) — Sat, 28 Nov 2009 04:24:07 +0000

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“What if a demon were to creep after you one night, in your loneliest loneliness, and say, 'This life which you live must be lived by you once again and innumerable times more; and every pain and joy and thought and sigh must come again to you, all in the same sequence.
The eternal hourglass will again and again be turned and you with it, dust of the dust!' Would you throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse that demon?
Or would you answer, 'Never have I heard anything more divine'?”
(Friedrich Nietzsche - German Philosopher, 1844-1900.)

This is another picture from the series shot in my street in Varanasi (Benaras) while four men were emptying plaster bags from a truck.
It was very dusty, although they reminded me “butoh” dancers performing with white-body makeup.
This japonese contemporary dance came after the second world war and among several things the choreography is a remembrance of the suffering of Hiroshima's atomic bomb.
It rises the question of how is it still possible to dance after such a thing and in some ways it is easy to compare this concept of art to those workers living in dust.

With Painstaking Excellence

nobody@ipernity.com (Designldg) — Fri, 27 Nov 2009 14:22:36 +0000

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“All labor that uplifts humanity has dignity and importance and should be undertaken with painstaking excellence.”
(Martin Luther King, Jr. - American Baptist Minister and Civil-Rights Leader. 1929-1968)

This is one more picture from the serie shot last afternoon in my street in Varanasi (Benaras).
Men were emptying plaster bags from a truck and they were reminding me “butoh” dancers.

Messengers of The Gods

nobody@ipernity.com (Designldg) — Thu, 26 Nov 2009 09:07:17 +0000

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“Dancers are the messengers of the gods. ”
(Martha Graham - American dancer and choreographer, 1894-1991)

This series of pictures was shot last afternoon in my street in Varanasi (Benaras).
Men were emptying plaster bags from a truck.
I was in rush but I sopped and took several pictures, my enchanted mind decided that the truck would become a theatre stage while those workers happened to be “butoh” dancers performing.

The Veil of Delusion

nobody@ipernity.com (Designldg) — Thu, 26 Nov 2009 07:28:40 +0000

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“When your intellect will completely pierce the veil of delusion, then you will become indifferent to what has been heard and what is to be heard [from the scriptures].”
(Bhagavad Gita)

This man was taking a break as he kept on emptying plaster bags from a truck which stopped in my street in Varanasi (Benaras).
The amazing light and the dust gave a theatrical touch to what became my subject for a short while.
He was tired and I could se sweat melting with plaster on his skin, his expression could be taken for the state of piercing the veil of delusion...

Destruction in Construction

nobody@ipernity.com (Designldg) — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 22:09:56 +0000

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“For me, it is as though at every moment the actual world had completely lost its actuality.
As though there was nothing there; as though there were no foundations for anything or as though it escaped us.
Only one thing, however, is vividly present: the constant tearing of the veil of appearances; the constant destruction of everything in construction.
Nothing holds together, everything falls apart.”
(Eugene Ionesco - French dramatist, 1909-1994)

This afternoon nearby the house in Varanasi (Benaras), those men were emptying a truck.
They seemed to be out of this world and they reminded me Butoh dancers “performing" in white-body makeup with slow hyper-controlled motion.

All That we Think

nobody@ipernity.com (Designldg) — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 21:13:40 +0000

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This boy was standing a tthe entrance of the little akhara which is near Aurangzeb’s mosque in Kashi, the oldest part of Varanasi (Benaras).
That afternoon the temperature reached 48° and he was trying to get some freshness under this piece of cloth.
He was waiting for his father who was training nearby.
We talked with eyes only, I was trying to understand all that he was thinking under this veil.

A contre-jour

nobody@ipernity.com (Designldg) — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 18:26:21 +0000

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This portrait was shot with a contre-jour, French translation for “against daylight”.
That young man was sitting under a big umbrella near Lal ghat along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras), I took this photograph while my camera was pointing directly toward the sun.
The Contre-jour produced a backlighting of his face, hiding details and providing a stronger contrast between light and dark.
He wasn’t used to pictures and he was shy, then I made a few jokes until he felt easy inorder to take several pictures.
I came back last Sunday to give him the prints.

Smile at Each Other

nobody@ipernity.com (Designldg) — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 04:20:25 +0000

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“Smile at each other, smile at your wife, smile at your husband, smile at your children, smile at each other -- it doesn't matter who it is -- and that will help you to grow up in greater love for each other.”
(Mother Teresa of Calcutta, Albanian born Indian Missionary and Founder of the Order of the Missionaries of Charity. Nobel Prize for Peace in 1979. 1910-1997)

This is another portrait that I have shot last Sunday as I was walking near Lal ghat along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras).
Then I met several kids and young men bathing in the holy waters and listening to the lectures of a priest sitting under a big umbrella.
When they saw me each asked for a picture and of course I was happy to make a few portraits that I promised to print and to deliver at the same place today.

Illumination of Heart

nobody@ipernity.com (Designldg) — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 08:10:45 +0000

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“Soul receives from soul that knowledge,
therefore not by book nor from tongue.
If knowledge of mysteries come after
emptiness of mind, that is illumination of heart.”
(A poem by alal ad-Din Muhammad Balkhi, known as Jelaluddin Rumi - 1207–1273)

Last Sunday I was walking near Lal ghat along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras) and I met several kids and young men who were bathing and listening to the lectures of a priest sitting under a big umbrella.
When they saw me each asked for a picture and of course I was happy to make a few portraits that I promised to print and to deliver at the same place tomorrow morning...

Whoever Brought Me Here

nobody@ipernity.com (Designldg) — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 07:30:32 +0000

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All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.
This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I'll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I'm like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?
Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way.
Whoever brought me here, will have to take me home.
This poetry. I never know what I'm going to say.
I don't plan it.
When I'm outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.
(“Whoever Brought Me Here” a poem by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Balkhi, known as Jelaluddin Rumi - 1207–1273)

This picture was shot a few days ago along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras).

The Lady with a Red Sari

nobody@ipernity.com (Designldg) — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 05:34:52 +0000

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This picture was shot a few days ago at Prayag ghat along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras).
I was watching this lady and I thought that whatever the sari can be it always gives a kind of radiance and a touch of dignity to women.
It is amazing that it is done by only a single straight length of cloth and yet it offers so much of variety provided by the fabrics, designs and colours.

Shopping at Nai Sadak

nobody@ipernity.com (Designldg) — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 08:29:54 +0000

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Nai Sadak market is an amazing market in the center of Varanasi (Benaras) where most of the Muslims shopkeepers sell any kind of fabrics.
I always enjoy going there not only for some inspiration that I find for my work but also because this place allows my mind to travel with its fantastic touch of Orientalism.
It is a timeless bazaar where most of the people wear traditional garments, where so many colours, music and scents are mixing.
This picture was shot there, those ladies who must belong to the same family were happy to find what they were looking for.
Their happiness attracted my camera.
Nai Sadak means “New Road”.

A Fish Bone Shaped Life

nobody@ipernity.com (Designldg) — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 13:19:05 +0000

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“Je veux une vie en forme d'arête (I want a fish bone shaped life)
Sur une assiette bleue (Lying on a blue plate)
Je veux une vie en forme de chose (I want a thingamajig shaped life)
Au fond d'un machin tout seul (In the deep bottom of a contraption)
Je veux une vie en forme de sable dans des mains (A hands-filled-with-sand shaped life)
En forme de pain vert ou de cruche (In form of green loaf or jug)
En forme de savate molle (In form of slabby slipper)
En forme de faridondaine (In form of faridondaine)
De ramoneur ou de lilas (Of chimney sweep or lilac)
De terre pleine de cailloux (Of ground filled with stones)
De coiffeur sauvage ou d'édredon fou (Of wild hairdresser Or besotted eiderdown)
Je veux une vie en forme de toi (I want a life in form of you)
Et je l'ai, mais ça ne me suffit pas encore (And I’ve got it, but it is still not enough)
Je ne suis jamais content (I’m never happy.)”
(“Je veux une vie en forme d'arrête” by Boris Vian, French writer, poet and musician,1920–1959)

Last afternoon I was walking along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras) as I wanted to cross the city.
On the way I took a few pictures, I can’t really explain why this poem by Boris Vian came to my mind, I guess I made an analogy with all those lines and colors or maybe there was something which unconsciously connected me to the surrealistic process by which the poet reformed existing patterns...

Behind the Scenes

nobody@ipernity.com (Designldg) — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 08:30:43 +0000

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“Is it your face
that adorns the garden?
Is it your fragrance
that intoxicates this garden?
Is it your spirit
that has made this brook
a river of wine?

Hundreds have looked for you
and died searching
in this garden
where you hide behind the scenes.

But this pain is not for those
who come as lovers.
You are easy to find here.
You are in the breeze
and in this river of wine.”

(Behind the Scenes, a Persian poem by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Balkhi, known as Jelaluddin Rumi - 1207–1273)

I took this picture of my friend Juliette Sushila last Sunday as we were walking on the ghats along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras).
It was one of the last summer days even though it was November.
That day she left for Paris and a kind of winter monsoon came.

Among several things my friend is running charity business with an hospital in the Indian state of Karnataka where she needs support.
http://www.donnonslavie.org