Uno (One)

What are the colors of our continent, our city, or even that particular area of the city that we call ‘downtown’?The colors of closed offices, rolled down blinds and empty corners –are they different in Buenos Aires, London or Brazil? What is the color that defines Cipolletti, the place where the author grew up? What is the color of Patagonia, of the clear destination in between constant wind and the blue sky? Fernando Di Sisto’sUno could begin with formal or chromatic considerations.

What are the colors of our continent, our city, or even that particular area of the city that we call ‘downtown’?

The colors of closed offices, rolled down blinds and empty corners –are they different in Buenos Aires, London or Brazil? What is the color that defines Cipolletti, the place where the author grew up? What is the color of Patagonia, of the clear destination in between constant wind and the blue sky?

Fernando Di Sisto’sUno could begin with formal or chromatic considerations. Instead, the photographs invariably refer to that moment when people get home and the city reveals itself as it is and invites us to criticize or admire it. It reminds us of siesta time, that old tradition forgotten by hectic city-dwellers.

This is not a series about cities or its colors, neither about a trip. It is a book with portraits in shadows, camouflaged faces –an annoying veil, the grid and its transparency. No gloom, no pain, no country without opportunities or places with a cruel history.

It is all about accepting the quality of cement, metals, shadows, tree branches, sidewalks. It is all about moments of rest and silence, when the city becomes approachable and lacks interference. It is all about the pleasure of color paint, leaking light, a wall of the so-called childhood.

There is no questioning, but the feeling that it has always been that way. Even in the 21st century -the endless cadence of solitary men.