MAPS OF CONFINEMENT
PHOTOGRAPHY
Ana Carvalho
"Time was a key element. The same routine day after day and the feeling that there was no perspective, no way out, as if the space was shrinking and I was walking in circles. This is why I chose the clock as a main symbol, not only for the time that goes by, but, more so, for the time that passes so slowly it seems to freeze. Other symbols are closed doors, their repetition, the light shining through the windows."
(Read the whole text here)
Teresa dos Santos
"Maps
I always walk straight ahead; this is the only direction I know, the only one I want to know.
This is why I don’t need a map.
Time
Calendars are stupid. It’s stupid that lives are imprisoned by them. That they restrict feelings and emotions to numbers, scales, formalities, patterns, concepts.
On Friday we will be together. On Friday we will hug each other. On Friday we will be happy. On Friday, only on Friday. Can you wait until Friday?
Only time is free; we are not.
Emptiness
Emptiness is the name of the space which exists between us. The one which we can roam together."
Lockdown Dictionary, by Paulo Kellerman, translated by Maya Szaniecki (read here)
José Luís Jorge
FÁTIMA STRIPPED BARE
Fátima is a place of multitudes, a redundant statement that won’t surprise anyone. We all know this, whether from personal experience or having seen it onscreen. But then 2020 arrived – a year the likes of which no one can remember – and the place of multitudes transformed into an immense desert (only silence and stillness, somehow more in accordance with a place associated with religiousness and spirituality).
During April of 2020, I visited the sanctuary four times, moved by curiosity, and discovered a Fátima stripped bare of pilgrims and tourists. Those who have witnessed a million people concentrated in that space – such a powerful experience – and are then confronted by the emptiness of that very same space, cannot help but feel a heavy shock to the senses. That’s what happened to me. It’s that unusual Fátima, so distant from its archetype, that I aimed to document through images.
(Translated by Gabriela Ruivo Trindade & Victor Meadowcroft)
Carla de Sousa
Frankie Boy
Goretti Pereira
These abstract black-and-white analogue images reflect my time of isolation in 2020, which made me feel trapped physically and emotionally. As a photographer, I was forced to explore my immediate surroundings, developing a new appreciation for the mundane and ordinary things. This shifted my perspective and allowed me to express myself in a more abstract way.
Sónia Silva
A skin within the darkness.
Eyes closed. Eyes open.
Inside. Outside.
Where is the border?
How can I distinguish the inside from the outside?
How can I know if my eyes are really open when I see you?
How can I know if you exist inside or outside of me?
I’m afraid I won’t see you when I close my eyes.
How about now, can you hold me?
Paulo Kellerman
Translated by Gabriela Ruivo Trindade & Andrew McDougall
© Sónia Silva
© Sónia Silva
© Sónia Silva
© Sónia Silva
Ana Gilbert
THE SHADOW OF THE DAYS
I capture the shadow of the days so I'm certain that they pass by.
©Ana Gilbert, Linhas sem fuga
Rafael Vieira
God was already in the details – and, likewise, the Devil (the Enemy) also inhabits the details. The passing of time and the sedimentation of the hours have been contaminating everything, everybody, in the perishability of food, the overuse of tools, culinary experimentation, new habits becoming habit, the waiting game and expectations. This is a long exercise in monotony, in which, like Hopper, we capture snapshots of tedium. The sedimentation of the hours allows the opposite: beyond the duplicity between lethargy and bursts of creativity, we observe the world at hand, our eyes linger on objects, perhaps something we never really do. Until from within them unfold scars, strangeness, the unrecognizable.
(Translated by Gabriela Ruivo Trindade & Andrew McDougall)
Manuela Vaz
BRUME
In this new reality that consists in watching the world through my windows, I took possession of the sun, the clouds, the fog and the wind, the houses and their roofs, the dispositions of time. I stole them with my camera and made them mine. With them, I ran away from home and imagined other landscapes beyond my horizon. For company, I had the chirping of the birds which invaded the spaces abandoned by humans.
And the boats, far off in the distance.
(Translated by Gabriela Ruivo Trindade & Victor Meadowcroft)
© Manuela Vaz
© Manuela Vaz
© Manuela Vaz
© Manuela Vaz
© Manuela Vaz
© Manuela Vaz
© Manuela Vaz
© Manuela Vaz
© Manuela Vaz
© Manuela Vaz
© Manuela Vaz
© Manuela Vaz
Alice WR
BREATHING
Once I’d overcome the initial shock, in which my brain had made me live in survival mode and had prevented me from thinking too much, I was able to venture outside. I went to my breathing places. Places of and for myself. I lingered there, conversing with the air, the earth, the water, the pebbles, the animals and the days. Breathing was the one thing I could control.
(Translated by Gabriela Ruivo Trindade & Victor Meadowcroft)
Susana Gonçalves
Some days arrive as if we had reached the end of the world.
They are like a film noir, ambiguous, sombre, fractured.
Go. Leave the scene. Return to the centre.
(Translated by Gabriela Ruivo Trindade & Victor Meadowcroft)
Teresa Afonso
They talk about my granddad as if they had been with him just yesterday.
“Each time he went out to sea, he used to nourish lives. Dreams. Your granddad had a heart the size of the ocean.”
My granddad is the “Dream of life”.
(Translated by Gabriela Ruivo Trindade & Victor Meadowcroft)
Céline Gaille
Sílvia Bernardino
Lahissane
(All these photographs are part of the project Fotografar Moçambique).
Ana Moderno
Cristina Vicente
Normalidade aos passos
Confinamento
Ozias Filho
Mónica Brandão
Juliana Monteiro Carrascoza
