Hola hola. Última newsletter antes de mis vacaciones dieciocheras. Hablemos un poco de fotografía y de moda:
uno/ un perfil (antigüo sosí) de Richard Avedon y otro de Miucca Prada.
dos/ fotos color caramelo de Los Angeles.
tres/ imágenes de animales: osos cazando salmones de río en tiempo real; gallinas y gansos más hermosos que tú y yo; vacas sensuales; patos y gansos para reírse un rato.
cuatro/ lo que no vemos es tan importante como lo que sí (como en estas fotos antes y después de la pandemia).
cinco/ para mirar y mirar: una colección de fotos de Ed Ruscha de The Getty, y cientos de fotografías de Dorothea Lange que fueron liberadas.
seis/ la muerte de la industria de la moda.
siete/ la huella hídrica de nuestra ropa.
ocho/ vaya a disfrutar de Metalibro.
nueve/ volvió la laguna y volvieron los sonidos, una serie fotográfica.
diez/ cómo ser mejores humanos.
Gracias a todes por leer. Esta newsletter es gratis pero no barata. Para apoyar, compártela con alguien que conozcas, o suscríbete (el botón está al pie de la página). Y como siempre, un poema nunca está de más:
When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it’s over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.
When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.
Mary Oliver «When death comes»
El Gocerío 