nocturno

Not been around much. Time seems to contract as in a relativistic abnormality. Writing, translating, thinking and taking not as many photographs as I'd wish. But in September I was able to finally go through with a long-cherished project: a series of mostly nude photos in Paradiso, the city's best known and tremendously classical bookstore, with one of the great models we have in Spain today, Dana Moreno. Breakneck photoshoot: three hours, that's all the bookstore could give us 9 PM-Midnight. So we will be opening a show of some 20 photos from the project on Friday in Gijón. To launch things, one of the photos from the project got a

Time is the cruel artisan of love.

The debate seems to have followed me forever. If you like science, you have no emotions, right? You're cold, detached, something like the painful caricature of "Bones" Brennan in the unnerving TV series. Conversely, if you do art, you have to look down upon reason, it's an alibi to be utterly illiterate in terms of how the Universe really works. You don't do rational thought. At least that's how many people see it. I've been in love with science ever since, as a kid, I woke up early to see the launching of increasingly larger and more complex spaceships. And I've been in love with art about the same time. I've never seem the contradiction