Paolo Fusco - Fiori 24h
"Hardly anything is open 24h in Rome: a few bars, a few stores, self service gas stations and flower kiosks, a lot of flower kiosks. You can find them everywhere in the city and they never close. They never close. Their presence has always fascinated me, they seem like sentinels in the quiet roman night, small lighthouses populated by half-asleep immigrant workers. The photos were taken while wondering through the city in search of these islands of light and flowers."
Sophie Jodoin. Homicides, 2008.
Homicide 1. Oil on mylar, 11 x 8.5”.
Homicide 2. Oil on mylar, 11 x 8.5”.
Homicide 3. Oil on mylar, 11 x 8.5”.
Homicide 4. Oil on mylar, 11 x 8.5”.
Homicide 5. Oil on mylar, 11 x 8.5”.
Homicide 6. Oil on mylar, 11 x 8.5”.
Homicide 7. Oil on mylar, 11 x 8.5”.
“And as I close this chaotic volume I open again the strange small book from which all Christianity came; and I am again haunted by a kind of confirmation. The tremendous figure which fills the Gospels towers in this respect, as in every other, above all the thinkers who ever thought themselves tall. His pathos was natural, almost casual. The Stoics, ancient and modern, were proud of concealing their tears. He never concealed His tears; He showed them plainly on His open face at any daily sight, such as the far sight of His native city. Yet He concealed something. Solemn supermen and imperial diplomatists are proud of restraining their anger. He never restrained His anger. He flung furniture down the front steps of the Temple, and asked men how they expected to escape the damnation of Hell. Yet He restrained something. I say it with reverence; there was in that shattering personality a thread that must be called shyness. There was something that He hid from all men when He went up a mountain to pray. There was something that He covered constantly by abrupt silence or impetuous isolation. There was some one thing that was too great for God to show us when He walked upon our earth; and I have sometimes fancied that it was His mirth.” G.K. Chesterton
“According to most philosophers, God in making the world enslaved it. According to Christianity, in making it, He set it free. God had written, not so much a poem, but rather a play; a play he had planned as perfect, but which had necessarily been left to human actors and stage-managers, who had since made a great mess of it.”