POLIFEMUS, the cyclops: Giant, son of Poseidon, who sees the world through his only eye.

Before trying to settle what the photographer wants, it would be a good thing to discard inmediatly what he wouldn't want. It is not the purpose of the photographer to merely reproduce the view of things, or give the universe a copy of himself. That might be the camera's purpose though. For the photographer more than a tool, the camera calling for submissive replication, is an obstacle to overcome. There is poetry only in the unrepeatable, eventhough it may be seemingly repetitive as a sunset or a love confession. So, rejected the boring reproductive slavery, what remains is the erotic will.

Erotism is the ultimate human perversion of the mere reproductive sexuality that biology tries to impose to the species. George Bataille defined erotism as "the assurance of life, even in death". He also said: "Sexuality and death are culminating points of a party that Nature celebrates". The individual takes part of that party, but he also knows that he is the victim wich will be sacrificed at any given moment of the orgy. This is why he always try to retain the unrepeatable, the moment that slips from his hands for ever, and at the same time reminds him of the big last slip. Everything portraited in a photograph has been already taken from us: the photographer wants to make it endure, and to keep all the beauty previous that unstopable theft.

The same way the photographer doesn't like the antipoetic reproduction of reality neither he likes the self reference of painting. The prime matter of the photographer is reality, while the prime matter of the painter is himself. The photographer presents his art as if it were a piece of reality, but he pervert it, he unnoticely pollutes and poison reality, makes the snake bite its own tail. That's the only way he can brake the spell and steal that moment back, and keep it for his own.

So the photographer's will is erotic. He wants to assure life even in death, assure the immutable in the fleeting, assure the mysterious joy of things despite its hopeless lost. In a random senseless world he tries to hunt the meanings of things, the values, the sense... the truth.

Sunt lacrymae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt. (They are the thing's teardrops, and touch the mind of the mortal ones...)

this is me.

Countries I´ve visited:

If you want to take a quick look at my job, go here.

My equipment:

Canon 5D MkII & 40D

Canon 17-40 f/4

Canon 50 f/1.4

Canon 85mm f/1.8

Tamron 17-50mm f/2.8

Pentax P30

Pentax 50mm f/1.7

List of things that I like:

•Lists.

•Shallow tupperwares that fit without effort in my suitcase.

•Heights.

•Modern architecture, modern life-style.

•Small and unknown restaurants, with good food (a fine decoration is not mandatory).

•A jazz band when I´m drunk.

•Get wasted with beer.

•Women with their hair tangled, on t-shirts and bare feet.

•People who can draw.

•Maps.

•Rembrandt engravings.

•Hundertwasser paintings.

•Supermarkets.

•Independant cats, the ones that are missing for weeks and then come back.

•Africa.

•Find big, multilayered stencils on the street.

•Find tiny, subtle tatoos on women bodies.

•Sail boats.

•Brasil.

•Going to the movies alone.

•Get a hair-cut.

•The feeling of slacking garments over the sun burned skin.

•Binoculars.

•Walking under the rain (if it doesn´t rain too much).

•Giroscopes.

•People from other places.

•Spices: curry, basilic, sesame, rosemary, tarragon.

•Bicycles (and other anti-enthropy devices).

•Whales.

•The exact moment when the wheels of the plane leave the ground.

•Monkey faces.

•Dog smiles.

•The smell of just mown lawn.

•Junk food.

List of things that I don´t like:

•Lightnings while walking on a beach.

•Running too fast on a car (even worst if I don´t have my seat belt fastened).

•Fire weapons.

•Snickers (except for All Stars).

•Journalists that are less inteligent than me.

•A flat on my bicycle.

•Football club´s supporters. We are talking about soccer, of course...

•Poop on parks´ lawn.

•Showy bars.

•"Bombas brasileras" (very noisy crackers that are too ordinary around here).

•Fruit salads (macedonias).

•Everything cheesy and expensive ("el lujo es vulgaridad, dijo y me conquistó").

•Jellyfish.

•The salt that seawater leaves on the skin.

•Over make-up on women.

•Being a nature predator (there is no way out...).

•Enthropy.

•When subjectiveness takes over a discussion.

•Hard to read books.

•Wedding photographs (except from mine).

•Talking about people.

•Cloudy sunsets on winters.

•Recorded CDs without any label indicating thier content.

•Cold (with my lousy calefaction system).

•Steping over wet tiles wearing socks (this one I stole from Maitena).

•Fish bones (how do you say "espina de pescado" in English?).

•Dogs barking behind fences.

•Car tunning.

•Tools made in China.

•Dentists (except mine, because she is all right).

•French fries from the day before.

•Talking on the phone.

•Hangovers.