The three we depart in the red car at noon on a sunday from Tirano, Italy.
Between what was going, was my D700, a wide-angle (who died on the way), and a filter of 16 stop.
We had decided it, my daughter of 13 and I, after our trip in solitary to Dubrovnik, Croatia.
This time we would cross Europe of south to north, up to coming to Latvia. In the last moment there added the mother of my daughter. We did not have any idea, hotel reservation or route in mind, only do way up to coming to the deepest of the Baltic sea that we could.
We load the red car with the essential thing. I put some t-shirts, underwear, the body of the machine, three lenses, the tripod and a couple of filters ND that would make me exercise the mathematics.
Already a time ago I work a new series. I understand that photography, like so many other things, is a journey in itself, the change through the path of a road. And I understand the travel sense of Carlos Castaneda and Paul Bowles. But for me it is the water, whose movement I let flow through shots with long exposure times.
The red car is like my D700, small, old and burning oil, and endowed with the spirit, if this were possible, that took us without breathing for 5,500 kilíometros in two weeks, walking, breathing, eating or sleeping ten cities of nine countries.
And what do math have to do with all this? I don’t know, but that was Nicanor Parra, poet, mathematician and physical Chilean, a long before each one of us.
In the series I work with my Nikon, a tripod with quick release pad, a 16 stop ND filter and a remote shot, and used a 17-35. Besides the calculator and the chronometer of my mobile phone. And of course, the formula: Exposure time with filter nd = exposure time without filter nd multiplied by two high to the reduction of the ND filter in Stop, which in the case of Mio, is two to 16, or 65536.
We spend Austria, and the first night in Salzburg. We go in a road of high speed. Everything appears and disappears in an instant in the limit of my field of vision. I shoot with the mind and flight over the fields that surround us holding the steering wheel firmly.
And I see photographies that I cannot do. The arms of enormous mills of winds with which they have sowed the hills., they are my cyclops or guardians of another world.
In the back, my daughter sleeps. I see paths that climb hills and bend before getting anywhere. The wheat field with Van Gogh Crows filled my breath at the end of August somewhere between Austria and Poland.
I am one with past of graphical reporter, where the speed is a part of the DNA. One who thinks that the equipments are of steel and have the obligation to last a life, and that the technology and the teconología are not anything any more than instruments. I am a dinosaur.