Rodolfo's Methods

Loss, Zurich 2021

Session I - What, How, Why

What

LOSS is a photography project which is made up - so far - of three series of photos that I took over the last three years. The first serie is constituted by several black and white pictures that I took while having a walk by the Zurich lake (Switzerland) and pretends to explore the relationship that I, through my camera, established with what I was feeling back then and the surroundings, while trying to process and get over the death of my grandmother, that had passed away the day before. Curiously there was a connection between the feelings of sadness, melancholy and nostalgia that I was experiencing, and the way the day had dawned in that winter morning: cold, grey and foggy.

How

The project emerged spontaneously in that morning of December 2021. I got up, put something on, took my camera and left my home, towards the lake. Once I was there I kept walking, while I was listening to music and taking pictures. This process made me connect not just with my inner reality, with my feelings, but also with the way the world looked like on that day. Photography was a way of, through the clicks that framed my vision of reality, connecting with the different dimensions that made up my existence. After this, I remember only looking at the photographs a few days later and feeling quite happy with the outcome, not only because they were visually quite appealing, but above all because they meant something to me, they were part of a (never-ending) process of grief. Later, when working on my portfolio, I decided to edit and organize them, in order to create a kind of narrative that described the journey of that day.

Why

I wanted to grieve and to process the loss that I was going through, once that due to several circumstances I couldn’t make it to the funeral of my grandmother. I was living abroad, a pandemic was going on and back then going out and taking some pictures sounded like the “right” thing to do to process this loss, perhaps because photography has always been a kind of extension of me, of how I see and relate with the world, or simply an escape. It constituted a catharsis and, at the same time, it changed the way I relate with lenses, once that it made me realize the role that photography can play in telling stories that can be disruptive and/or relevant to the societies in which we live in.

Session II - Interview (with Chan)

Chan: What are you making?

Rodolfo: I have been working around the void theme. And it’s basically been mostly about research, like trying to understand what a void means for me and for others and how you can represent that visually. Or, even, if you can do that. And from this starting point, “How can you visually represent a void?” I started to generate other questions, such as: does a void have a color? And what’s that color? Does a void have a shape? A texture? A sound? Boundaries? It’s quite a conceptual/abstract approach, that can go in many directions, and I am pretty much enjoying it, without worrying too much about the outcome that this research may have.

C: Why are you making it?

R: Lately I was mainly working around the topic of loss/grief, that was related with the way that I and others face grieving/mourning processes - and the starting point was a personal grieving process. And one of the last questions that I had while I was investigating these themes was: How can we represent, visually, the void that comes from losing (someone)? Afterwards I just decided to step back, delete the “losing (someone)” part and try to understand what is a void in a more generic, abstract and/or conceptual way. I think that the reason why I am doing it is strictly related with the amount of overwhelming experiences that I had in the last year and a half, once that I was traveling a lot and moving from one city to another. I think that I need this space and time full of nothing (or something that I don’t even know what it is), some kind of emptiness, void, that gives me the possibility to breathe.

C: And is your work more like a research-based one?

R: Yes, I guess that it’s mostly about research. I am just trying to find ways of exploring this theme, because even if it’s quite abstract/conceptual, you can still follow very specific paths, like exploring a spatial, cultural, social or historical context that can be attached to a void concept. So right now I am just trying to find what’s the best way for me to go on with this research.

C: Are you trying to standardize the concept of void for this project or are you trying to use different references/ideas about void concepts, in order to make your own concept of it?

R: What’s interesting about this exercise that we did yesterday in the workshop, when you all had to represent a void in an A5 page, is to realize that, somehow, there is a pattern in the way that we think, visually, about a void. And I don’t want to make it just about me, I want to understand how others think about it. So I guess that is a mix, between how I see it, how you see it and how others see it.

C: What is the image that you had in your mind about the concept of a void?

R: My first idea when I think about it is the image of a building with a courtyard in the middle. And then you just have this space, full of air, full of wind, full of nothing.

C: How does it relate to other things you have done?

R: I think that is strictly related to the loss/grief topic that I was exploring, as I mentioned before. This emptiness/void doesn’t need to be attached to a physical loss, it can also just be the result of someone that disappeared from your life, or from some expectations that you made up in your mind and that didn’t match with reality - whatever reality is - after all. And this generates somehow a void, a sense of emptiness, that you need to process and to get over. So I guess that is everything connected.

C: What are the most significant choices you have made recently?

R: I think that with this project I stopped worrying that much about the final result, and I am just enjoying the process. At the same time, I am trying to explore and to broaden my perspectives and the way I approach my work. So I used to work with still images, but now I am quite excited with trying out things with moving ones. And what’s really interesting about this, which I wasn’t that aware of until some weeks ago, is to work with sound. This makes me go out of my comfort zone and explore not just the way we can experience something through visuals, but also from an acoustical point of view.

C: Are you also trying to use your own experience or thoughts on this project?

R: I think so. It’s inevitable. In the end I am the one doing it, so it will always be influenced by my own thoughts and experiences. In the way I see and read reality. But I think that is quite fluid and since it’s a research-based project, I will always have other kinds of inputs, external ones, like the things that I read or watch. And this will enrich the project.

Session III - Rapid prototyping

Rapid_Prototype_Directory_LB1

Session V - Project that may or may not be made

Rodolfo's proposal for a project that may or may not be made

Session VI - Question that motivates my work and draft texts

Question

How does (temporal/spatial) distance influence the way we deal with processes of disconnection, loss, grief?

Draft Texts

1.

What is time? What is space? What is distance? How does distance translate into time? How does distance translate into space? How does distance translate into our relationships? What’s the role of distance in our relationships? Do relationships need distance? What does distance create? What does distance add? What does distance subtract? What can we gain through distance? What do we lose through distance? Are we always losing through distance? What’s the color of distance? Does it have a color? Is distance poetry? Can it be poetry? Can we create poetry through distance? Or we can just create it through closeness? Does distance create a feeling of being close? Of being closer? Does it increase what we feel? Or does it decrease it? Is distance shallow and superficial? Or the other way around?

2.

How did I bump into distance? How close or how far from that have I been? Some weeks ago, a Portuguese poet/songwriter died and I went through some of her songs/poems. Two verses of one of her poems caught my attention. It says something like this: “Distance is a mirage/ Distance is poetry”. I have been going back to these two sentences several times. And I started to relate it with my practice. With the way I approach my work. What is distance? Does distance mean to be close? Does distance mean to be far? Does it mean both? How many dimensions can distance have? I have been thinking, mostly, in the role of distance connected to our ideas of time and space. And how it can influence the way we perceive the world and the relationships we establish. Does distance provides you time to think, to breath, to align, to connect, to process, to understand, to actually see? Or does it open the door to an unnecessary universe of never-ending possibilities? Do we actually need that time and space that distance provides? What if we wouldn’t have that distance? Does distance create chaos? Or is it enlightening? Does it provide clarity? And, if we need distance, what’s the right amount of it? How do we measure distance? Is there any way of measuring it?

We can measure a spatial/geographical distance. We can take a ruler, and if we are not too far (what is too far?), measure how far we are from each other, but: does it actually mean that that is the real distance between us? Maybe, intellectually/emotionally we are closer or further than that and we don’t even need to be in the same room, in the same building, in the same neighborhood, in the same city, in the same country, in the same continent, in the same planet, to feel the distance - or the lack of it - between us. What’s the connection between physical and emotional space and what’s the role that distance plays in it?

And what’s the influence of time on distance? Does it make it increase or decrease? And how is that shaping the way we relate with each other?

3. Scanning (fragments of) distance Distance is a mirage Distance is poetry

Caminhanti, Sara Tavares

Some weeks ago, a Portuguese poet/songwriter/singer passed away and when I was listening to some of her musics, I bumped into the two verses above, part of one of her poems, that caught my attention. Since then, I have been thinking about them and about the role that distance plays in our lives. From that moment on, a question raised in my head: what is distance? And after this, an endless number of questions emerge, aiming to create a connection between notions of distance, time, space and the relationships we establish with each and every one of them: Is distance a mirage? Is distance poetry? Can distance be poetry? How does distance translate into time? How does distance translate into space? How does distance translate into our relationships? Do relationships need distance? What does distance add and subtract? What can we gain and/or lose through distance? What does it mean to be far and to be close? Does distance provide space to think, to breath, to align, to connect, to process, to understand, to actually see? Or does it open the door to an universe of unlimited possibilities? Do we actually need the time and space that distance provides? Does distance create chaos? Does distance provide clarity and a sense of enlightening? Does distance have boundaries? Do we need distance? And, if yes, what’s the right amount of it? How do we measure distance? Which are the ways of measuring distance? What if there was no distance? And I could go on and on, in a never ending number of failed attempts to reduce the distance between me and distance itself, but I would probably never get there, I would probably never get closer, I would just get further. And there would probably still be distance between us - and who is us now? Is it me and you? Is it me and distance? Is it you and distance? Is it the distance between us? Between the two of us? Or between the three of us? We are getting too far now, let’s move to somewhere else. I would like to tell you about how, ultimately, this relates with my practice and with the work that I have been developing image wise. Curiously, I got to know this specific poem because the artist passed away. And lately my work has been, precisely, about that, which made me rise (another) question: how does (temporal/spatial) distance influence the way we deal with processes of disconnection, loss, grief? This question is strictly related to the work I am currently developing, since I am working with a picture I took about seven months ago, in a place (physical and mental) completely different from the one I am in at the moment and trying to understand and process a traumatic event in my life, related to a loss and the lack of meaning of everything that happened that day. Usually, there is always a delay between the moment we experience something and the moment we actually produce or create something related with it. So, why do we actually do it? Do we need to do it? What happens between one moment and the other? What is that distance proving us?

(…)

I definitely have too many questions - don’t you think so? And a few, or rather, no answers. Maybe answers would be disappointing anyway.