Photographical project and book accomplished between 2011 and 2015, in a partnership with Alziro Barbosa.

21 x 26 cm | 48 pages | 500 copies | paper: Fedrigoni Materica + Olin Rough

>> where else to buy
BRASIL: Tenda de Livros | Livraria Madalena | Banca Tatuí
FRANCE: L'Ascenseur Végétal | NORWAY: Einer Books

>> November 23th to Jan 16th, Galeria Vermelho, São Paulo _ Fotos Contam Fatos
>> November 11th to 16th, Guatemala _ GuatePhoto (as a part of the Indie Photobook Library exhibition)
>> 27, 28 and 29 November, Lisboa _ 6ª Feira do Livro de Fotografia de Lisboa
>> Oct 15th to Nov 8th, Paris _ Ping Pong: 30 young photobooks x 30 classics

>> Les Rencontres Internacionales de La Photographie de Ghar El Mhel, Tunisia (June 2015)

>> Colin Pantall's blog: New Black Landscapes, New Spanish Landscapes, All Brazilian Landscapes
>> Josef Chladek: Best of October 2015
>> Heidi Romano: Photobook Melbourne

>> Indie Photobook Library
>> Bibliothèque du Château d'Eau, Paris - France
>> Galleri Image, Aarhus - Denmark
>> Franklin Furnace Archive - USA


fotografias photographies Laura Del Rey e Alziro Barbosa
edição e projeto gráfico editing and design Laura Del Rey
tratamento de imagens image retouching Braulio Araujo
pré-impressão prepress Víctor Garrido
ilustração da capa cover illustration Romano Corá
impresso por printed by Artes Gráficas Palermo, Madrid


There is no order. You know there is none. And it’s dense. Blue thickness laughing at your blind faith in the frame (or in the manipulation?). The landscape is not the ecological back cover of your city, it’s just a different sort of war. Another technology. The engine you do not understand, the one that makes you surrender. Violence you haven’t perpetrated. And it ignores you.

You share with mysticism your need for metaphors. You want to believe the crack defines you. You aim to worship the tectonic crack, the crack’s infancy. You have faith in the crack. You pursue the ramification and its significant. You flee the wales, the beauty, the subjective. However, the crackcontains a swinging, a distraction, some sort of dance. In the crack, there are nerves agonizing towards the horizon. There’s almost everything youare running away from. Then, you go and do that very human thing: pick a cloud and ignore everything else. Fencing the sensible. Adoring water and its reflection. Touching the cold with your fingertips so as to be able to say: “It’s real.
Yes, it’s real”.

You have chosen the earth and its punitive embrace. You have chosen something that hasn’t come to be yet: the delay. Or something that hasn’t stopped coming: the wave. Those move you towards the extinction or the journey.

All sea is amniotic. In the oblivion of dreams, a question arises: is reality an open sea or a moist, dark tract where the next is to be born?

__ Isabel Navarro, May 2015