WALK IN THE NIGHT
I'm talking about the city and its nocturnal life. During this period of time, the solid collective image weakens and closes the theatre drapes over the stage pitch to leave room for us to change in the backstage, where the rhythmic streams of the traffic slowly brakes synchronising with the traffic lights, with the traffic signs, with the services provided, closing out the washed souls without masks, devoted to their inner peace, far away from the reflectors of the metropolitan show.
Before everything shuts down, I wake up walking on a middle land, pausing between the two worlds, photographing from above its children. I am at the border, as at the border you can find the machinery and the improvisation. I follow the clear moon and the most intense street glow, the shining trams and the intermittent vehicles. My machine feeds with the lights, sufficient to satisfy my ideas, ideas that are without shape at that moment, intangible thoughts, as the reality it presents itself. This way, working in conditions of limited light, the images produced might appear imperfect, unclear or in motion, unfocused or strangely build but, despite of everything, they appear to resound in unison with the strings of our spirit.
It always seems difficult to extract something or somebody out of a category, especially in the so named territories of the Occident. In a way, Cluj-Napoca has captured me, it stimulates me to action, it gives me something when it appears to be abandoned, it gives me its faces, its life, its days and nights are calling me in a weird dream which deserves to be told, a dream far from its conventions or global stereotypes where small and varied personalities are yet free to reinvent their own future.