September 17 th
At the first beginning I started to developed the technique and it took me a few years so that I could reach my goals. Throughout the whole process I felt embraced by emotion. At the end I lost the technique and the capacity to sing in a stunning speed. The emotions were also gone. The last time that I sang it was in Alcobaça. I remember to stop the car on my way back and for the first time to pull out a poster which announced a concert. It was four o’clock in a cold morning… I would only hang out with musicians. I used to date one of them and also all my friends were musicians. I felt a wound prey without any chance of survival, the kind that slows down all that surrounds it and jeopardizes the whole group. After loneliness came the diagnosis: Temporomandibular Injury. For a singer it is the worst of the disabling injuries. There is even worse, the deafness. How I wished for it… so that I could not hear take after take all my recordings… My soul was translucent and started to fade day day after. I kept working, I was still a functional human being, simply just because, simply because that’s what it’s expected, what it’s supposed to be. I’ve always done what was expected of me. I felt dull. I saw myself in the mirror and I couldn’t truly recognise my shapes. The blank stare collided with another blank stare. Outside there was an overflowing with sick joy, always happy, always with a joke flying out of my mouth. One morning I looked in the mirror and saw nothing for the first time. There was nothing there, not the blank stare, or my mouth, or my nose … nothing. Besides not knowing who I was, just to make it even worse, I didn’t know where that person, who I did not recognize as being myself, was. I was completely lost. That’s how it all began… the search for the image where I could find myself. WHAT TO DO? If I’m looking for an image of me, an image that shows me where I got lost in order to understand where to find myself, the better will be to photograph myself. I started to carry a photo with me, a photo of me, to look at it and to question… “Where are you?” … the kind of questioning a mother does when she is looking for a missing son, hanging pictures of him everywhere. It took me a year to start photographing myself and the outcome of the entire process is this set of pictures. I still don’t know where I am, but I’m surely closer to find and recognise myself than a year ago.