SPLENDOR: Pablo Di Giulio

  • The heart, if it could think, it would stop.

    Fernando Pessoa.
  • WHEN INDIVIDUALS EXPERIENCE SOMETHING VERY BAD AND LEARN SOMETHING, THE ANCIENT GREEKS AND PSYCHOANALYSTS WOULD CALL IT A CATHARSIS, A KIND OF PURIFICATION. OEDIPUS ABOVE ALL. THE GREEKS KNEW WHAT THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT BECAUSE THEY HAD LIVED WITH THE CONCEPT SINCE THEY WERE SMALL AND WATCHED ALL THE TRAGEDIES IN THE THEATER, WHICH, ACCORDING TO ARISTOTLE, COULD ALSO LEAD TO A CATHARSIS IF THE AUDIENCE ENTERED THE STORY OF CURSES AND FATE. ENTHUSIASM MEANS BEING EXCITED BY DIVINE TRANSPORT. IT IS WHAT TAKES OVER THE FOLLOWERS OF DIONYSUS, THE GREEK GOD WHO PROVOKES ECSTASY AND MAKES PEOPLE GO OUT OF THEMSELVES TO REACH THE SACRED, WHICH IS ALWAYS CLOSE BY. JUST GET IN THE MOOD AND THAT WILL SUFFICE, DIONYSIANS FALL INTO THE PARTY, DEMOCRATIC AS CARNIVAL. THE CHARACTERS IN THESE PHOTOS ARE INSIDE THE SPECTACLE BETWEEN ENTHUSIASM AND CATHARSIS, LOST IN A SECOND THAT CAN OPEN UP IN CONSCIOUSNESS OR BECOME JUST A PAUSE TO BREATHE BEFORE ENTERING THE PARADE. WE ARE ALL IN THE SAME BOAT WITHOUT REALIZING IT AND, ANYWHERE AND AT ANY TIME, WE ASK OURSELVES THE SAME QUESTIONS.

    I WONDER WHAT AM I DOING HERE AT THIS MOMENT?

    DO I CLOSE MY EYES AND THROW IN THE TOWEL OR

    DO I OPEN MY EYES AND STARE AT THE SPLENDOR?

    Pablo Di Giulio

  • If we go down into ourselves

    we find that we possess exactly what we desire.

    We desire something different from what we are,

    so we turn outward.

    Simone Weil

  • Here's Elza's face twice inside the photograph. Enjoy, immortal woman. Bath with gala the stupefied countenance of the people who...

    Here's Elza's face twice inside the photograph. Enjoy, immortal woman. Bath with gala the stupefied countenance of the people who bow down into the delirium, into the guts.

  • You may never know who killed your child. From there arisers the tragedy foretold. The reverse side of joy with...

    You may never know who killed your child. From there arisers the tragedy foretold. The reverse side of joy with numbered minutes. How far is the beginning from the end? It glitters. Is it gold or tin? There are stars in the sky, fireworks, songs of milky beauty, the soul enraptures, the body in search of the final cry. You don't need a handkerchief or a document. The stars will shine again. The great-grandfather sun will open his arms.
    Carnival will pass.

    Diógenes Moura