People: Children (AMATEUR) - HONORABLE MENTION
CHILDREN OF RINCON DEL MAR
Photo © Mario Loaiza
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Children from Rincón del Mar. This is a fisherman town located at Sucre department, Colombian coast. Connecting with people might be the most difficult part of my job as a amateur photographer, since usually people do not really show who they are, because they hide behind their worries and fears. However, the children from Rincon del Mar have nothing to hide because happiness is in front of their eyes.
His work is a tribute to art and spirit, it is a mysterious alloy between mercury and silver. These images already existed since forever in his mind, they were alive even before his camera would shot. They are a genetic proof of the artist that resides in Mario’s soul, gravitate in the eye of his Cyclops, and fabricate the honey in his heart like the bees from Martin Tinajero’s, running wild like Fidias’s horses.
I have had the privilege of prefacing his genius, and I can only say:
He was a sculptor, engraver and embosser at the Athens of Pericles, and he is not asking for more fame than Lord Byron’s dog had, or even Polly Nichols, the first victim from the skilled ripper. His being does not admit vileness, and the beauty for him is a telescope that he uses to scan the horizon.
Boris Adolfo Bueno Loaiza
Caracas, October 23rd 2010
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Children from Rincón del Mar. This is a fisherman town located at Sucre department, Colombian coast. Connecting with people might be the most difficult part of my job as a amateur photographer, since usually people do not really show who they are, because they hide behind their worries and fears. However, the children from Rincon del Mar have nothing to hide because happiness is in front of their eyes.
About author:
Men and image have remained together since the very beginning of the species, even above and beyond the fantastic daguerreotype introduced at the French Academy of Sciences, in 1839.His work is a tribute to art and spirit, it is a mysterious alloy between mercury and silver. These images already existed since forever in his mind, they were alive even before his camera would shot. They are a genetic proof of the artist that resides in Mario’s soul, gravitate in the eye of his Cyclops, and fabricate the honey in his heart like the bees from Martin Tinajero’s, running wild like Fidias’s horses.
I have had the privilege of prefacing his genius, and I can only say:
He was a sculptor, engraver and embosser at the Athens of Pericles, and he is not asking for more fame than Lord Byron’s dog had, or even Polly Nichols, the first victim from the skilled ripper. His being does not admit vileness, and the beauty for him is a telescope that he uses to scan the horizon.
Boris Adolfo Bueno Loaiza
Caracas, October 23rd 2010
BACK TO GALLERY
