Four years have gone by. Almost no one talks about it anymore, except for a few Science popularizers. A silence that further accentuates the unpleasant sensation that all this happened an era ago.

Therefore, the image documentation of the behavioral moments of that period is even more striking. Of the vision we had of our daily life, seized and shrunken inside the lockdowns. A closure of body and soul.

Here is the artist’s body. Which in the case of photography is to take it to where the emotion, the aesthetic movement of the soul (as I like to define photography) is expressed.

Closed. Segregated for days in the same place. An attitude not suited to human nature in continuous, often incomprehensible walking. Hurried up to an apathetic production of local motions. The body I was saying, forced to remain there still for endless days.

Photography, then, insinuates itself into the most intimate moments of our lives, otherwise considered devoid of detailed attention and investigation: opening a window in the morning; going out for a short walk in the garden; going to the nearby supermarket surreptitiously, for the bare minimum, with the declaration in hand that you lived nearby.

Observance of the rules: the mask, the body temperature measured, the notices of community prohibitions. Suddenly empty spaces and places filled with messages of spirited hope: “Everything will be fine“.

Relationships that materialized only on computer and smartphone screens: chatting with family, with friends, with a trusted yogi.

Working from home, teleconferencing. The workshops and live broadcasts of the contests on Instagram. The whole world contingent in small visual miniatures on the screens singing hymns and ballads.