Journal de bord /
Jorge Cueto
12 septembre, 2023
Jour 1
I drove fully packed. I Unpacked. I worked with some wise, eccentric characters in the morning. We ate a diner. Today was special, I was downtown. As I prepped for before I imagined her madness. On my drive i remembered. I setup my shoot. I sat for 2 hours fully set. I sat in the harsh summer sun. I didn’t look the world in the eye. When I tried they wouldn’t look me back. The wind ripped off my sign. It fluttered in the wind, sand got wet by the hydrant. I sat there. People walked by. Students, foreigners. Grandmothers, old guys, shirtless tattooed beefcakes , kids on bikes, die hards skaters. Downtown she showed up. She told me about the peoples. I talked to myself as I fotographed. I took months off. I needed to be hungry I needed to be blind. I had lost faith in humanity. I spoke to randoms. Some didn’t want their photo taken.. they told me their perspective. I didn’t judge. They didn’t want people to judge them. I understood. There is alot pain in any city. There it is. But people that did want to talk, they spoke about dreams, about education, creativity, acceptance. There is still much to learn.
Jour 2
Le matin, j’ai passé un entretien en espagnol. Aujourd’hui, je suis allé au marché du centre-ville. Ici, le centre s’appelle « Downtown ». Ce matin, mon premier entretien a eu lieu avec un Mexicain. Il portait des cartons dans le dos. Je l’ai remarqué parce que la façon dont il le portait était connue. Les mains, l’équilibre et la façon de marcher. Je lui ai dit que j’étais photographe. Parler espagnol était mon « brise-glace ». Il s’est arrêté de marcher et a dit « oui ». Il m’a dit qu’il venait d’une petite ville. Que ce n’était pas comme ça.
Il est peut-être venu à cause de la météorite. Nous sommes tous ici à cause d’elle.