A matter of focus: Notes on Christopher Colville’s proposal

By: Juan Pablo Torres Muñiz
 
It is possible to say events, events, eventualities. On the margin, another term: accidents. Accidents imply a contrary will.
They change with the facts, the scenarios, the conditions; they mutate, they transform. The circumstances, on the other hand, correspond to the perspectives of men. It is on the margin of these that the world, as they say, keeps turning. It is we who establish a separation. Subject of scales and proportions.
There are images that help to understand it better. To ask ourselves better. They say more and open up to more, that cannot be said. They are more than eloquent manifestations of the so-called natural laws. And they leave us without arguments.
Here, the proposal of Christopher Colville.
 
 

In the human field, that of the possibility of compassion, of suffering for another, we must know well of the tragedy. This represents for us a distortion in the ideal flow to experience. In fact, we could say that tragedy corresponds to the paralysis of the subject before the flow of the inevitable: impotence on multiple scales…
Thus, often, we have man before and against chemistry, physics, what is called inert and the tiny being that survives him for millions of years. On the other hand, in the last instance, the blind instinct of that other, the inhuman, which plays to incarnate, to be itself the force of nature without knowing only half, catalyst, accident…
 
 
 
Contemplation is also a complex issue.
It impresses. It moves. But it depends once again on the scale. Time and space. It has to do with the focus, with the origin of the light: our lights. I do not refer to photography technique, but to the one we offer with our previous experience and, above all, our disposition. If we have to deliver ourselves in attention, the distance at the time of its exercise will mark the testimony fully.
 
 
Let’s see what Christopher achieves with his approach to objects.
Approach equivalent, perhaps, to the child who discovers a new world every time. It quickly invites to abstraction. In other words: it soon offers a reality in which to lose oneself, appropriate to meditation. All this, maybe, according to the moment.
A matter of the approach and I still do not allude to any technique
 

 

 
The great landscapes are there. Its contemplation separates us from the cycles that correspond to us and reduce us before our own eyes, together with the meaning that we commonly attribute to our own death.
Our steps, in our tracks…
 

 

 
A man in a photograph at the foot of a canyon, a cliff or a waterfall is if not the grain of our measurement, put there to contrast the time of the mass, so that we can measure it in human breaths on this side of reality, of our life…
Breathers: Clean air…, stale air…; short cycles with which we can tell about the rumor of the corpses, about their infinite chord.
 

 

 
The phenomena are also there and the presence of a man registered in photography or video, near the place of their development, always surprises… We do not suppose that these phenomena can –perhaps even, should– usually be recorded.
Coincidences…
 

 

 
“Intrepid” tornado chasers or explorers in volcano eruption zones do not inspire a reflective admiration for their -specifically false- courage or courage. Not even those who, safe on a roof, have managed to film the passage of a tsunami for a coastal city. In none of these cases can talk about challenge; you do not fight against the elements, you can barely sneak away from their effects, endure them being flexible to their inevitable step, and always with limitations…
 

 

 
Whether it is great landscapes or natural phenomena, its contemplation provokes vertigo, and it can make one forget the horror of one’s own mortality at the expense of making it seem insignificant, as if our cycles were the stars, as if we could endure for more than a billionth part of the time it takes a star to form itself, the idea of our own extinction, valuing it in proportion to the life of the universe…
Cells not even that …, fluids –apparently– inert…
Authentic carriers of the major key…
 

 

 

 
Those of us who recognize illusion, often turn to the immediate, fragile, perishable: our monuments, and if for a moment we become wise, to the effort of living. Those who do not, are comforted in believing their own possible vision and attribute it to a small great god, saying that he can see everything, beyond where his own imagination arrives, which is overwhelmed by the evidence of our finitude, of the incomparable, the vertigo and the fainting.
 

 

 
Lifetime.
Question of distances, of scales. Focus.
 
 
(Translation, by María Eugenia Mendoza)
 
 

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