The Paris Sessions - March 1977 (The Minolta Years)

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In a way I still seem to believe on those words...

All my life I have felt like a kind of "cosmic clochard": I am nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

I am home wherever I feel at home!




























What do I have to say about these images?

I took them 34 years ago, how could I remember?

From my notations, I used a Minolta 303b for the snaps (my first serious camera, a true revelation after my Olympus Trip 35...).

I fed the apparatus with either Ilford HP5 or Kodak Tri-X, developed in Tetenal Emofin and in Kodak Perceptol 1+1, respectively.

From looking at the photographs, I would say that I have used my Minolta Rokkor 21mm, and most probably, also the Minolta Rokkor 80-200mm.

The rest are very vague memories.

The passion for Photography still remains...






Me at the end of the film, looking like a "Spiegelei".

I was so young and hopeful back then, I still had such a long road ahead...


Technical data:
Camera - Minolta SRT-303b
Lenses - Minolta Rokkor
Films - Ilford HP5 and Kodak Tri-X
Developers - Tetenal Emofin + Kodak Perceptol 1+1
Location - Paris, France
Date - March 1977
Scanner - Epson Perfection 4990 Photo


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The River (Part 3) - Rio Tejo, Lisbon, September 1994

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Technical Data:
Camera - Hasselblad 500 C/M
Lenses - Carl Zeiss Distagon-C 3.5/60mm + Carl Zeiss Sonnar-C 4/150mm
Film - Kodak T-MAX 100
Developers - Kodak HC-110 + Tetenal Neofin Blau
Location - Lisbon, Portugal
Date - September 1994
Scanner - Epson Perfection 4990 Photo


XXXIV

Acho tão natural que não se pense
Que me ponho a rir às vezes, sozinho,
Não sei bem de quê, mas é de qualquer coisa
Que tem que ver com haver gente que pensa…

Que pensará o meu muro da minha sombra?
Pergunto-me às vezes isto até dar por mim
A perguntar-me coisas...
E então desagrado-me, e incomodo-me
Como se desse por mim com um pé dormente...

Que pensará isto de aquilo?
Nada pensa nada.
Terá a terra consciência das pedras e plantas que tem?
Se ela a tiver, que a tenha...
Que me importa isso a mim?
Se eu pensasse nessas coisas,
Deixaria de ver as árvores e as plantas
E deixava de ver a Terra,
Para ver só os meus pensamentos...
Entristecia e ficava às escuras.
E assim, sem pensar, tenho a Terra e o Céu.


Poemas de Alberto Caeiro – Obras completas de Fernando Pessoa
(Lisboa, Edições Ática, 1979), pp. 57


XXXIV

I find it so natural not to think
I start to laugh sometimes, all alone,
I don’t really know why, but it’s about something
To do with knowing there are people who think...

What is my wall thinking about my shadow?
I ask myself this sometimes until I notice
I’m asking myself things...
And then I get mad at myself, and feel uncomfortable
Like when my foot falls asleep...

What does this think about that?
Nothing thinks about anything.
Does the earth have consciousness of its stones and plants?
If it did, it would be people. . .
Why am I worrying about this?
If I think about these things,
I’ll stop seeing trees and plants
And stop seeing the Earth
For only seeing my thoughts...
I’ll get unhappy and stay in the dark.
And so, without thinking, I have the Earth and the Sky.

Translation from Fernando Pessoa: Alberto Caeiro: Complete Poems


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The River (Part 2) - Rio Tejo, Lisboa (October 1994)

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Technical data:
Camera – Rolleiflex 3.5F
Taking lens – Carl Zeiss Planar 75mm f/3.5
Film – Kodak T-Max 100
Film developers – Kodak HC-110 & Tetenal Neofin Blau
Location – Lisbon, Portugal
Date – October, 1994
Scanner – Epson Perfection 4990 Photo



Não basta abrir a janela
Para ver os campos e o rio.
Não é bastante não ser cego
Para ver as árvores e as flores.
É preciso também não ter filosofia nenhuma.
Com filosofia não há árvores: há idéias apenas.
Há só cada um de nós, como uma cave.
Há só uma janela fechada, e todo o mundo lá fora;
E um sonho do que se poderia ver se a janela se abrisse,
Que nunca é o que se vê quando se abre a janela.

Poemas Inconjuntos

Poemas de Alberto Caeiro - Obras Completas de Fernando Pessoa



It’s not enough to open the window
To see the fields and the river.
It’s also not enough to not be blind
To see the trees and the flowers.
It’s also necessary to not have any philosophy at all.
With philosophy there are no trees, there are only ideas.
There’s only each of us, like a wine-cellar.
There’s only a shut window and the world outside it;
And a dream of what you could see if you opened the window,
Which is never what you see when you open the window.

Detached Poems (1913-1915)

Fernando Pessoa: Alberto Caeiro: Complete Poems



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The River - Rio Tejo, Lisboa (October 1994)

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Technical data:
Camera – Rolleiflex 3.5F
Taking lens – Carl Zeiss Planar 75mm f/3.5
Film – Kodak T-Max 100
Film developers – Kodak HC-110 & Tetenal Neofin Blau
Location – Lisbon, Portugal
Date – October 23, 1994
Scanner – Epson Perfection 4990 Photo


XX

O Tejo é mais belo que o rio que corre pela minha aldeia,
Mas o Tejo não é mais belo que o rio que corre pela minha aldeia
Porque o Tejo não é o rio que corre pela minha aldeia.

O Tejo tem grandes navios
E navega nele ainda,
Para aqueles que vêem em tudo o que lá não está,
A memória das naus.

O Tejo desce de Espanha
E o Tejo entra no mar em Portugal.
Toda a gente sabe isso.
Mas poucos sabem qual é o rio da minha aldeia
E para onde ele vai
E donde ele vem.
E por isso porque pertence a menos gente,
É mais livre e maior o rio da minha aldeia.

Pelo Tejo vai-se para o Mundo.
Para além do Tejo há a América
E a fortuna daqueles que a encontram.
Ninguém nunca pensou no que há para além
Do rio da minha aldeia.

O rio da minha aldeia não faz pensar em nada.
Quem está ao pé dele está só ao pé dele.


Poemas de Alberto Caeiro – Obras completas de Fernando Pessoa
(Lisboa, Edições Ática, 1979), pp. 44-45


XX

The Tejo is more beautiful than the river that flows through my village,
But the Tejo isn’t more beautiful than the river that flows through my village,
Because the Tejo isn’t the river that flows through my village.

The Tejo has big boats
And there navigates in it still,
For those who see what’s not there in everything,
The memory of fleets.

The Tejo runs down from Spain
And the Tejo goes into the sea in Portugal.
Everybody knows that.
But not many people know the river of my village
And where it comes from
And where it’s going.
And so, because it belongs to less people,
The river of my village is freer and greater.

Through the Tejo you go to the World.
Beyond the Tejo is America
And the fortune you encounter there.
Nobody ever thinks about what’s beyond
The river of my village.

The river of my village doesn’t make you think about anything.
When you’re at its bank you’re only at its bank.

(3/7/1914)

Translation from Fernando Pessoa: Alberto Caeiro: Complete Poems

Poem selected by Maria Helena



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