he same thing happens to me with my rural spaces around me as it happens to me when wandering through the streets of the village. They seem to me just as active, just as diverse and in some cases just as unexpected and eloquent... I also use to say “my rural spaces” as I say “my streets”. Because I have always lived in this place and I feel every corner very much mine. This feeling of belonging is even more solid since I started taking photographs more than two decades ago. So, all this makes it natural for me to find stories in simple things while walking a dusty and sometimes lonely road... I invite you to continue on in this publication and take a look at some of my recent photographs in rural areas turned to black and white, that format which I love so much and which serves me as a way to express myself more than any other...

here is an extreme diversity in these streets... Whether up close or from afar, aiming at a scene, a space or a person, ends up translating into a small story embedded in a rectangle... The town changes, transmutes, dilutes and recreates itself from one street to another. The different neighborhoods make me feel as if I am visiting different towns or even have the sensation of going from one time space to another... Sometimes things around me are concise and easily identifiable and a few steps further on I end up in front of a cryptic and even abstract scene.... I guess that's the way it is with taking pictures in the streets... Please continue ahead in this post and enjoy this street selection I made to share with you today on #Hive...

his is perhaps a purely photographic publication. I have in my archives several photos which I don't want to leave behind, forgotten without editing and therefore share. So when I'm in the mood I sit in front of my PC and I go through my most recent archives looking for those kind of pictures to look at them, understand them and translate them somehow... Today I wanted to look through my street photos and made this little selection to share this with you here on #Hive, I know you'll enjoy them....

n my specific case, taking street photographs is something addictive... And taking this kind of pictures and thinking and turning them to black and white is something that can be defined as an “obsession” as far as my photographic favoritism is concerned... So what I am saying here is perhaps the clearest explanation I have given about all this... And I also want to add something: “The addictive thing here has more to do with the way the photo and I understand each other than with the photo itself”... What's more, I'm going to get even more poetic: “In the street photos are the street and me happening at the same time”...

live in Venezuela, and in this country power outages are a frequent occurrence. So yesterday when the power went out at 4:30 PM, I knew that we would have a 4 hours of continuous blackout. So without thinking too much I took my camera, put on a pair of old hiking boots which I have in my closet and headed for the hills north of town with the intention of waiting for the sunset there and take a few pictures...

rought and I are at the height of our annual love affair... This is a complex, tense, difficult relationship... Every year the drought and I play at alternately loving and hating each other... I wander around the town, observing how the greens are disappearing to become yellows, browns and ochres. The air becomes thick, hot, rough and the dust seems to be more than a third of what one breathes... Yet she knows that I love her drama and that unmistakable sense of decay she brings to the valley... The branches of the trees are stripped bare, some even die... On the hills appear rocks, paths and places unnoticeable during the rainy season... The landscape is almost abstract, unpredictable and one feels vulnerable in front of the enchantment of some spaces immersed in this almost macabre beauty... For this and more, the drought and I love and hate each other, coming and going in a Dantesque and sometimes incomprehensible symbiosis, in which she throws me into the heat and talks to me about necessary cycles, and I take pictures of her, reluctantly understanding her... The drought reminds me of that present God of Hinduism called “Shiva”, the one who destroys the illusory and immerses us in a state of consciousness that clears and clarifies what we once believed to be real... I don't know, but there is something between me and the drought that year by year gets deeper... It's not just about photography, no... In every cycle there is a lesson to learn...