A couples of weeks ago I was shortlisted for a group exhibition interview. To my surprise they were interested on this project.
So, with just 3 days to get ready, I went through all the slides, around 2000, and did this first draft of a possible projection. Still don’t know the outcome of the interview but I thought to share with you this first reel. Continue reading
Jorge Lizalde
Going through my archive, looking for a picture I might have lost, I came across this posthumous portrait of my father which I made few years ago, just before my house was emptied.
The painting was made by my uncle, Jose Luis Cano, a recognized artist from where I am coming from and good friend of him. Also, my mother’s brother who indirectly is represented on my picture too, as all the decoration around the painting it is clear her world.
If someone was asking me today to recall an image of him it would be similar to this painting. So, now, we can have a common visual ground when I refer to him.
Jorge Lizalde
Today 6th of July is my father’s death anniversary, 13 years, but also it represents the time I began to take pictures with a purpose and becoming a self-taught photographer.
All beginnings are frustrating at first, but those primary experiences, tests and understandings were following same pattern, the vaguely recalled technical advices from my father, that 9 or 10 years earlier, he introduced me prior one of the pictures above was taken, as I explained on my last post (Et Voilà!).
On my search for this symbolic picture that will represent the beginning on the slides-reel, I found two. My memory was certain that the picture would be similar to the first one, because of the light and day time. But after a closed look, I am pretty sure was the second picture, taken on an early morning while having breakfast with my family.
It is the location what have make me to change my mind. It is curious how precise details can transform the recall of a memory. The angle from where was taken, the proximity to the square and specially the unavoidable metal roof on bottom that brakes the picture’s composition, which it is the only element I properly remember for that moment and still bothering me!
Now, I am convinced I found that primary picture, it might not be the one I took but I am certain was taken before or after that instant. It was a huge, huge surprise to find it in the collection as it really means a lot to me. I am full of excitement and looking forward to finish my first editing, story or reel. High five!!
Jorge Lizalde
Et Voilà! First mission accomplished. The suitcase and content arrived to Cardiff. Now it is time to start the editing, but where to begin?.
Around 1990 or 89 when I was 10 or 11 years old, we went on holidays to Marocco, spending a month driving through the whole country, from East-North to the Atlas Mountains and back via West-North.
On that journey, I took several pictures assisted by him and with his camera. But, there is one I perfectly recall as it was the first time I took a picture consciously of what I was doing.
I am not interested in the precise image of that instant as it might has been lost after my father’s editing. What I am looking for, it is an image that will recall the previous moments of that picture being taken, because it was my first and last quick introduction to the technical side of photography by my father.
Never took seriously photography after that holidays. Everything changed in July 1999 when I received my father’s camera after he passed away. And those moments and little advices for that particular picture are what I try to follow and to remember in my personal image creation.
So once again, Marrakech square will be where everything starts. All the different editing will begin at that spot and then unfold the uncertain story-lines on the reel-projections.
Jorge Lizalde
Here we are at Zaragoza’s train station waiting for the AVE. I have to admit that it was a bit difficult to fit all the slides in the suitcase but as you can see, it is ready to go.
It has been a really emotional and challenging journey so far, but also enjoyable and fulfilling. I wish would have been longer as I was unable to talk with all familiars and friends face to face.
On the other hand, the project has opened the doors to communication and I am in touch with most of them via Facebook, Skype, email and mobile. So despite the distance, now on my way to Cardiff, the chats will continue via one of these media and published on the blog, while the slides editing process happen which I can wait to get started.
Just before going back to the center of the city and leave Garrapinillos, I raised some questions to Guille. Guille is short of Guillermo but everyone call him El Guille, its literal translation would be The Guille. In spain, we love nicknames and shorts are used mostly as nicknames.
At first he was a bit nervous, he new what it was the purpose of the interview as he saw his brother published on the blog. But once relaxed he can speak lots.
It is nice to see that after few years of his death people still remembering him with such vivid memories and stories, really touching that people speak about him with so much praise.
Jorge Lizalde
Believe it or not, these are the cherished objects of 21 years of a family of four. More or less 2 boxes by person.
Every single object that wasn’t sold, donated, lent or trashed, it is in those boxes. The certainty that my father’s slides were in one of them represented the 85%, the other 15% was built up by the hesitation on my mother’s answer ensuring they were here.
So the 25th of August 2011 at around 16.30p.m GMT +1.00, on the loft of my uncle house, in the outer dry countryside of Garrapinillos, 8.3 miles west from Zaragoza and with an ambient temperature of 50℃, my cousin Guille, who kindly gave me a lift, and I proceeded to the opening.
Before coming here, we asked to my mum if there was any archive protocol, we thought that the slides would have been packed and properly indicated, the answer was “No, but if you shake them you could hear them”, and that it is what we did, shake box by box as maracas.
The technique actually worked, we could hear them but in every single box, so we finished opening and emptying all the boxes, checked that we got all of them, and then packed back all again.
This rushed methodical process stopped us to examine every single object in the boxes, but unveiled a vast of emotional sparky memories forgotten, a milkshake of sadness and happiness, bubbled up by a warm silence which handled with past, present and future. Just poped by the timing realisation: “Blimey! it is 17.20p.m, Grandma wouldn’t be happy if we are late”.
To be able to continue keeping you posted, I thought it was needed some geographic clarifications.
On the left-hand side of the picture, there is an illustration of the journey I have made. Cardiff-Bristol-Barcelona-Zaragoza. I thought it would be helpful, not only to show the long distance, around 1168 miles, but also to introduce Zaragoza to those that didn’t know or couldn’t pin down its location on the iberian peninsula.
On the right-hand side of the picture, it is an overview of Zaragoza and neighbouring villages. I born in the capital but when I was 4 years old we moved to San Mateo de Gállego. A village located 25 kilometers north from the city, spotted in red on the map, and where my family house is.
But, as you probably have noticed, I also spotted another location in blue, 20 kilometers west from the city, between Utebo and Garripinillos. And it represents Gus and Pilar´s house, my uncle and aunt who live now in Barcelona.
This blue spot near Garrapinillos is where we are heading for the next two posts as all the properties, after emptying my family home, are there.
P.S. If you click over the picture, it should zoom in.
“are you nuts?” followed by a shy smile is what I had from my mum the time I spent convincing her to answer this question in front of the camera.
Two days later, I have got a call from her saying “I am ready”, it didn’t catch me by surprise as I knew all it was part of her diva’s game, as she always have been one.
She might be right that I am nuts as there is not much reasons about this familiar ritual and as she concludes, we might be just a monkey family. But in fact, it was happening not only in the family but also in social family events, for instance my father’s slide projections. So, it wouldn’t be right to recreate these projections without inviting viewers to enjoy some sunflowers seeds as well as trying to find the origin of it.
Jorge Lizalde
This picture shows the actual state of the living room of my family’s home. Here, it is where most of the slide-projections that my father did to his friends and family happen.
At the time, there were more furnitures, sofas, chairs and the shelves were filled up with books.
On the centre, we used to install a portatile screen where the holiday or family slides, from a projector leveled with books on the middle table, were displayed.
Friends and family used to gather in the warm dim room, around of this improvised scenario while eating sunflower seeds, traditional ritual of the Lizalde-Cano family, and listening the comments and explanations of my father about his pictures.
After his death, I inherited his photography material with which I started to take my first pictures and also to project them to my university friends.
I wonder if my strange love for the projection booth and have been a cinema projectionist has paralelism with these slide projections.
The slides or E-6 process was a very cheap and a good way to learn photography as it is really difficult to get the right expousure. Now more expensive and desappering as only a couple of labs process it in the Uk, this project might be not only a tribute to my father but also to the E-6
Editing my father 