The chronicles will relate with astonishment the legendary audacity of the intrepid photographer Thomas Canet who, answering the call of the cultural rebels of FVCK, dared to challenge the Shining Knight in the very heart of the kingdom where it was always Christmas. Along the crowded boulevards, a dazed passer-by, attracted by the invitation, moved away from the masses to enter the dark zone, hoping to get rid for a moment of the frenzy of light that, like an invisible force, devoured (almost) everyone…

Upon entering ZONE DARK the passer-by was surprised by the variety of shapes and colors that dotted the room. A visual shock for which he had not been warned. Yes, that young woman in the skirt sitting on the bus was a powerful attraction that he was curious about, and he imagined finding an updated -and colored- version of Walker Evans’ famous Subway Portraits. Nothing further. The color vibrated on the walls in scenes that were familiar to him… Madrid, London, New York… Does it matter? They were scenes of a city, a place of challenge, a jungle where looks avoid meeting. Glances that hide and conceal. And next to the surprising young woman, that disturbing red portrait that startled her and pushed her to continue walking around the room. At first, still puzzled by the initial impression, he jumped from one group of images to another. He was looking for answers, but they resisted. And then there was SHE…

The spectator – now more calm – was getting used to walking around that city, a visual dump where the shadow and the blood, the apparent and the tangible, the vain verticality of the skyscraper coexisted with the pitiful horizontality of the beggar… He avoided approaching the alarming yellow grimace that was watching from the back of the room… What are they? Sinister clowns? The city can be a perverse place, an exhausting territory that leaves deep scars in the soul and eloquent signs of fatigue in the bodies. The now inhabitant of this imaginary city, contemplates with curiosity what seems to be a wall pierced by bullets, but again feels the presence of SHE behind his back… Who could that enigmatic woman be? What does she want to tell us? Why does she avoid the look? Could it be a warning? He looked at her for a long time, but nothing was revealed to him…

As he was about to leave the room, a circular image of hypnotic colours brought a strange smile to his face as he remembered the pathetic counterbalance that awaited him outside.

Until the 7th of January in the Sargadelos Photography Room in Vigo. There is no excuse…

 

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