A photograph will always be a portrait. When the
photographer exposes himself before the “throat of
the things,” there will be either the truth or the abyss.
There is no “more or less” photography. A photograph
(that portrait) can be a shout or the extract of a long
silence. Clovis Ferreira França likes silences. Oblique
corners. Abysmal lights. Lucidity frozen in time. Serene
colors. Blues of the nocturnal sea. Images without traces.
A fine line. Transparencies. Empty places. Solitude (that
fabulous achievement) full of meanings in which the
nonpresence is what transforms the image into a memory:
a key, a stairway, a clothesline with white cloths, a man
with his back turned. It is the minimum. A photography
of waiting. He speaks about himself, all the time, so that
the delivery is always the gaze of the other. Of who sees
him. Of the few who see the empty bed, the empty chair,
the books on the table, the doors that do not close. It is
an all-and-nothing, far beyond. An open book. A verdict.
WRITER AND PHOTOGRAPHY CURATOROR
São Francisco, USA