STOP, says the sign here in cape town, where I am still.
Stop because I have finished the job and for a day and a half I am doing what it is very difficult to do: nothing!
I rest, watch a movie on the ipad and read. This week I read: WALTER ED IO by simone annichiarico (bio/memories of walter chiari written by his son, sweet, I’ve always loved him and now more than ever!), DOPO LA FOTOGRAFIA by quentin bajac (very interesting) and TRE ATTI E DUE TEMPI by giorgio faletti (ok, he might be commercial but I like the way he writes. But I liked more APPUNTI DI UN..). Now I have started reading IL TEMPO É UN BASTARDO by egan: they talk highly about it.
I wanted, in the right time, say a few words on the topic that has been whirling in my mind for sometime and, by writing about it, I would like to talk more in depth about it: BEAUTY.
It is odd, given what I do, but beauty (that of human adults…) it is not an asset for me.
I am aware that the topic is better left in the hands of those who have written more in depth about the subject but I would like to have my say, intimate and personal opinion.
Beauty (I reiterate, of human adults) in my opinion is not an asset because within itself it often has a lack of truth.
It is a fiction.
It is a sham.
It often is the wanting to be something else.
To be beautiful you often have to change: from something little (the colour of your hair, the nails…) to medium (makeup, hair extensions…) to big (transplants, botox…).
Beauty, often enough, is not what one is (which in any case is always perfect and unique) but what you aspire to be ( which is always and inevitably imperfect and shared): I am not beautiful but is beautiful what the others decree to be as such.
Not by chance the people that are used by fashion photographers (…!) are called models: they are aspirational models, they are references, mock-ups, paradigms … that give reference to proclaim themselves as beautiful.
Do you want to be beautiful? You need to change! You must leave yourself to be another. It is necessary to deny yourself in order to be.
I do not like all of this!
It might be bizarre for what I do, but that’s it.
In my opinion models are not a model for anything!
Is it bizarre said by me? Perhaps, but for me the model is the medium that allows us to tell a story. It is a mean, not an end.
(which I think this also increases the dignity of a model, taken away by a false iconic pedestal to be placed where she should be: in the real world).
I certainly do not mean to say that the ugly is beautiful (weird oxymoron), but I maintain that beauty is only in the truth: but of truth here there’s nothing…