Luc Dewaele, dagboek

Over fotografie en leven.

Real diary (701)


Real diary (700)

My students were lucky bastards again, tonight.


Real diary (699)


Real diary (698)


Real diary (697)

The season of diptychs starts again…

Real diary (696)

The teacher tries to demonstrate, again. With simple means and great models.

Real diary (695)

Between Ghent and Bruges.

Real diary (694)

Night at the movies.

Real diary (693)

“Perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition.”
James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room

Real diary (692)


Real diary (691)


Real diary (690)

‘I fell in love with taking pictures, with wandering around finding things. To me it feels like a kind of performance. The picture is a document of that performance.’

Alec Soth

Real diary (689)

Why is Form beautiful? Because, I think, it helps us confront our worst fear, the suspicion that life may be chaos and that therefore our suffering is without meaning.

Robert Adams, from “Beauty in Photography”

Real diary (688)

“The camera is an excuse to be someplace you otherwise don’t belong. It gives me both a point of connection and a point of separation.”

Susan Meiselas

Real diary (687)

Looking for remains of human breath

Real diary (686)

Looking for windows – alla ricerca della fenestra perduta

Real diary (685)

My working class heroes.


Sei nata nel fondo oscuro del mare

dalle valve madreperlacee di una conchiglia

ma il fuoco dell’amore ti ha concepito nel silenzio

e ti ha donato i colori della primavera.

Vedo tra i tuoi capelli che s’è impigliata una foglia

del colore rosso dell’autunno

e negli occhi due lacrime di quel mare

profondamente azzurro.

Quando il vento ti spettina m’inebrio

al profumo del tuo sorriso simile a un gelsomino

fiorito tra i petali delle tue labbra.

Il suono della tua voce seduce il mio cuore oscuro

con la dolcezza di stelle tremanti

e le tue parole danzano al ritmo

affascinante delle onde che s’infrangono

nel corallo della tua bocca

Mentre scrivo su questo foglio, il tuo nome

di Primavera illumina la mia mano

con la malinconia di un fiore lontano.


Roma, 06/10/2018                                                                                                                                    Marcello Comitini




Geboren geborgen in de onverlichte onderzee

Parelmoeren schelpen klapkieuwden je uit

het onderwaters vuur – vol min en stilte –

brandde jou in lentetinten.

Ik zie een herfstblad gestrikt in je haren,

zo herfstig teruggevoerde kleur in zijn nadagen

en zie, zie in ogen welgeteld twee zoute tranen

ongekleurd nog, meerdieper blauw.

Als dan doorheen jou, omheen jou de wind roert,

verwazig ik, in eigen ziel bedwelmd door jasmijn,

de geurige weerglans van je glimlach,

uitdijend-gebloeide jasmijnmondjes.

Stellige klank van je stem verleidt mijn toegedekte hart,

in de zindertrant van sterren zachtliefelijk.

En woorden alleen van jou, op een bekorende dansmaat,

met een golfslag die danig verstuift – breekt –

schurend op koraal – golfbrekers van je mond.

Tussenin beschrijf ik het onbeschrevene;

ik spel je naam, Lente, met een hand vol licht,

op een vergaand bloemblad vol herfsttroostigheid.


Real diary (684)

The teacher tries to demonstrate.


Real diary (683)

Being happy.

Real diary (682)

Roeselare, Stationsplein.

Real diary (681)

Meeting spaces


Real diary (680)

Also yesterday’s news/recording


Real diary (679tris)

“If a photographer cares about the people before the lens and is compassionate, much is given. It is the photographer, not the camera, that is the instrument.”
Eve Arnold

Real diary (679bis)

“If I saw something in my viewfinder that looked familiar to me, I would do something to shake it up.”
Garry Winogrand

Real diary (679)

“As I have practiced it, photography produces pleasure by simplicity. I see something special and show it to the camera. A picture is produced. The moment is held until someone sees it. Then it is theirs.”
Sam Abell