At first sight, it seems that the woman in this portrait is an isolated person and confined in a space, in a corner. By the way, to me the most wonderful thing in portraits is eyes "fixed nowhere", that has got lots of magic. As I said, the woman seems confined to a corner, isolated from the world ... in principle, it would be negative, but a more interesting second interpretation leads me to believe that the iron railing is not an impediment that limits her, on the contrary ... it could also be considered a guardrail. Is the world outside pleasant or harmful ?, attractive or tasteless and false? ... A dilemma, two opposite sides, two sides of the coin, too. Does she feel excluded in a railed room? Or happily protected in her privacy? Everything depends on how much we may need of others and of life in general, and the secret of happiness is ... well ... is to need "very little", only mediocrity needs a varnish layer to shine brightly. Can't stop wind blowing in my sails. Can't stop discovering new things everyday and feeling happy and alive!.

I hope you like this dual meaning reality portrayed. Many kisses.

Sitting within these walls, it's hard to have any references about how, where or when. It could be any nearby or distant time, no matter the day or the hour ... any memory of whoever may wait either. Parched and cracked plasters want to run away from the wall, they do not help to place me in any particular year of my life. Its appearance is identical for my childhood or for my life as adult, can be any moment that will eventually been saved as many others.

Smoothly, he moves along the edge of the iron door, softly and slowly, with such long legs; and I follow his movements with my eyes. The opilion is afraid of me, or rather the opposite, he seems not to care about me at all. Yes ... definitely, no matter if I'm sitting next to him or not. He quickly escapes my view, almost as fast as is being immortalized this stamp. My mind is thick, knowing to stop time and live as if they were eternal seconds, turning into an intimate eternity. There's any premeditation ... what attracts my interest, is this unique living being in the place, the rest no longer has life.

You, beautiful opilion, with shiny grayish suit - "it's you and chants of birds who remind me that I'm still alive, still have my conscience, who keep me awake, where are you going?, don't you see that I love your grayish suit, your costume spider, because spider you're not. "-

I do not mind cobwebs present in each corner, with a lot of suspended dust that helps rays of light dancing everywhere, filtered by threads. Cobwebs do not bother me, neither the strong feeling of tiresome oblivion in this vault, or the land on the floor. We are close in a peaceful stillness.

You, elusive opilion: "Was the chirp, produced by moving the entrance door, which woke you up ?, that's why you're leaving me now?, it still echoes in my mind, a metal tear that seeped into the depths of this silent place.

You, witness of the place, witness of future, you're present right now, dumb ... beholding one after another pass by. I feel like putting my palm for you to go up, to shelter you.

It must be now ... after you'll see me die too, and I could not extend my hand to rock you ... you'll see me pass by in time as all of them did. I'm very little compared to this great coming and going, but I'm the only one present now, conscious, with my eyes open ... besides you.

It was a pleasure to meet you ... Now my mind is more agile, I must go, we'll definitely meet again.

2015 (c) Laura Marco

Tangle pricks, 'tis true, however there're grapes among this presumed clutter. Wasted and fertile ground mix equally, without any order or logic. As for her self 'tis tiring and tedious, being always separating good from bad, barren from fruitful and although she carries grape in the ceramic platter. Signs are soft and good, howe'er weeds seems to take over all, even sprinkling to the air we breathe.
Tangle's too dry.

Act I, Scene i
[Enter TECHO with DOUBT]

TECHO
Ay, I warrant you there're too many compositional elements, tut, should suggested diagonal in turn be more ...

DOUBT
To tell you true, was considering her gaze, looking sad, fixed on something outside the frame ...

TECHO
Ha! in front of her, looking straight at her toilet handbag, at 'er jeans and cap to be changed as soon as the caption's made. Keep you sure, and fly somewhere else. As said, done and go something else. I miss a brighter light at center of the scene to ...

DOUBT
Do you think ?, O, no, no, no, not that kind, she may have been dressed in that guise at home and has left to reach the place as excited as if living in another time, going out her clothes with the ark ... her gaze now may be the end of the attempt to adapt to a place almost abandoned for us, just I do not know for 'er, or how she's feeling.
Forget for once in your life... rules which slip inadvertently through our senses, without any analysis. Yes, do, do, do.
You'd know if fullness is reached in the image, just by taking a look, right? ... ay do, do, do, and why grape ?, why not beans or tomatoes? ha?

TECHO
What matters vegetables, fruit! or whatever the fuck 'tis ... it will be for the sake of green color (irritated), too much overdone, what about thinking on the possibility of providing a single opposite more neutral area, to a lesser amount, which contrast would offer. ..

DOUBT
Ha' you heard better language? someone who wonders WHO IS ... have you noticed the title of the caption? "Her psycho-photo" ... is almost like a concept that invites us to think in the story behind, I think she does care what she's carrying in 'er hands, or place, or sense of abandonment. All matters. Pray you, observe.
Well, do you think everything goes and nothing really matters, just only for the sake of aesthetics ?, what's beautiful-stunning-scenic-pituresque, what is not ?, what is empty of content, what is not ?, is the same a glass half full, half empty ?, O, poor. For me is not the same ... obviously.
What a shame not know why she chose grapes in her hands !. Do not know if this moment means just a quick click of the camera or a stop on a long road more thought and lived, than walked. Pity my ignorance! Peace, you!

TECHO
This image does not fill me and when I have that assessment, it is no big deal. Not worth much.

DOUBT
O, my dear Techo, no one knows where value is, neither right nor wrong, all your photograph manuals are bad souls!. Books are not gods, they may be wrong. Nothing is written yet ... or there's lack of written. Everything is to be changed. How now, my Techo?

TECHO
My fine friend I'm afraid you're entering menopause (laughing out loud), no offense. We'll continue to see more, go to hell this woman and her grape, another woman with a bunch of peppers ?, right? Huh? Doubt!
You're old ... I waste my time with you ...

Laura Marco (c) 2015 - Tell Me Who I Am

The essence is the same, all closely linked to simple roots and connected to the Earth.
This very hot summer is taking its toll on me, I don't even fancy switching on the computer, wishing to get a change of season.
I had many days this image for want of photographing the little lamp and the notebook, days passed and ... finally taking care of lights, I lit the flame myself, put the filter on the camera and was determined to capture the slender thread of smoke before running out of wick and ... at last! :)

I asked my son to write the note: "Érase Una Vez" ... = "Once Upon A Time"...

Hope you like it !, Kindest regards, Laura.

--Laura Marco

Light Sleep

Sensitivity... means "a wanting and not being able", a half-sleep , light sleep. If you see the composition at thumbnail size, it seems she's resting with eyes closed, but when looking at real size, we realize that is not true, she's still watchful. Thanks for your comments!

It's a very spiritual work, that takes us away from the simple reality. I think this new year will be a journey within me, a return to my insides. For everything that has filled my life until now and forever. This work I feel as follows:
- "The doll and the woman share the same fragility, it's a Japanese porcelain doll, however though the doll being fragile, it can not feel, but the woman can feel. She tries to rest and she can not. That's sensitivity... means "a wanting and not being able", a half-sleep , light sleep. If you see the composition at thumbnail size, it seems she is resting with eyes closed, but when looking at real size, we realize that is not true, she's still watchful. Who is sensitive functions as a filter that filters everything around us, unable to rest easy. So I feel... in that way, I can not rest, either working with a photo, playing guitar ... whatever. I really enjoy working with these compositions because ultimately all are a piece of me. And no one will understand them better than me. Hope you like it."-

To make this composition I have heard many times a music video of relaxation, during almost 1 hour. I've heard many times. The video has a peak moment in the melody, I think it's played by a violin or a cello, I'm not sure ... it goes at minute 9:02

Relaxation music for stress relief and healing meditation VIDEO
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dOEvKulq2sY

OFF THE PATHWAY
Long ago I left the path,
I looked and looked around me
And began to search not knowing where.

Long ago I left the main stream
Now I'd distinguish what is Heaven and Earth.
I fear I will never stop wandering.

An eternal quest, feeling apart.
Others prefer travelling companions
And now I've lost sight of them.

I stepped aside off the main stream
wandering the length and breadth of my life,
Long ago...
(c) Laura Marco

• The meaning of the work for me is contained in this poem. The truth is that... I do not know how natural it sounds for native speakers of English, I hope the lines reflect well what I'm trying to transmit (!); It is difficult for a person to write with all the nuances in a language that is not his/her mother tongue. Anyway, there's a writer Joseph Conrad, Polish, but he decided to write all his work in English and he became a universal reference in the English-language literature and he learned it as adult. In my view, it can be a beautiful example of perseverance for all those that every day deal a little with another code, different from ours and have to code-switching. Sometimes, I'm not always sure about nuances and meaning.

I hope you'll enjoy this work, thank you very much for your comments!. Kindest regards, Laura

In the uptake of most of my works I'm a bit slow ... I'd like to make images more often, but what I can do best, it requires time; Photography is delicate and difficult, it is almost always a long way to contemplate a result.

The room, you're looking at, is the third floor of a country house that is more than a century old, the outside wooden stairs access is missed long ago, few people go up there, that's why this room still keeps in such a good state. I had to climb a facade to get through the door entrance, I was a little scared and hit my legs, even was worthy for me. The house is sinking and being on the third floor is quite dangerous. I dared not talk or breathe very deeply and I gazed in awe at what I had in front of me.

This room is full of shelves, formerly used for drying artisan charcuterie products (people were self-sufficient), so we can explain the large window in a triangle shape for ventilation. To preserve such use, I left a kitchen mortar. Now birds dare to seek shelter, but few.

The stillness, meditation, intimacy of the place have been conveyed by using the elements of the woman and the bird. Soon everything will collapse and be lost forever.

Hope you like it. ㋙

Where does Art flow? ...from where and when we least expect.
I'd define it as "a psychic compensation". When an imbalance occurs, then uncontrollably flows: Art.
Some people think certain topics, or colours should not be chosen, that we must be subject to some restrictions; it is true ... and ... it is not. Yes, we must follow some rules to achieve a desired harmony. But, ... we do not need to be bound to bias, nor limited by anything, because what we'll be able to generate, it'd not develop in genuine way, there'd be a risk of being a product of some tax models.
Art relieves pain, where there's a lack of friendship, love, understanding ... explodes a set of shapes in concord, which supply any miss that may be felt. Art fills voids and heals wounds.
I've never restricted my subjects, nor desires, nor have I suppressed my feelings ... if not, is useless any relief that I may be able to reach. Thereby, it's a way to give out my fears, my impossible things, any pain. Nor can we think when working, we're offending anyone, because we're a product of our times and society. Society is reflected in us and we in it, an interaction that goes in a boomerang movement. What it has done with me and me with it...

I should be as happy as a sandboy, but something always hurts me ... and doesn't set me at ease. It makes me eternal company, like my shadow, day and night.

Hope you like this work, kindest regards.

This is my vision of the Spanish siesta, this unique time of the day in which mind rests numb and everything stops, outdoors there's heat and the relentless kingdom of the Sun. Understand this special time is not easy, if you have not experienced it in situ, as it doesn't deal just with resting, revealing itself a moment with its own name and guidelines. You can sleep or not, lying down or sitting, but if you do something that would be only fanning or looking at the ceiling ... it's prohibited to consider anything other than an abstraction. The mind does not remember that hour and a half, does not really ... all you have to do is "let time flow"!.

No one thinks of calling or paying a visit in the siesta, it would be stark raving, inappropriate, unacceptable to the unthinkable. If the phone rings in the siesta is something considered of the most urgent and we whispered for sure... "who's the hell calling now? (!). No one is available to anyone. I'm afraid it would be as intimate as shower time. Siesta is related to fresh corners, shadows, listening to birds, cicadas ... without disturbing. In sum, the most unique feature of summer time and it goes from 15:30 to 17:00. Children are often scold to be quiet and silent, so they begin to internalize from small its true meaning.

I feel it as a time to enjoy lights above all, balmy and tender sounds around us, a switching off because afterwards we can't remember anything. Everything is golden or yellow and the queen is penumbra. Maybe how we've succeeded in making bearable so many hours of heat; just the way we're and...