Nature Morte, naturaleza muerta, dead nature literally... Continuing with the grammar of Dynamic Symmetry: root 2 overlapping

A series of lakes on the way to the valleys of Cairoma, edging the cordillera Kimsa Cruz, La Paz

It was an image that was in the back of my mind and of course, the origin of that deep seated memory is Edward Weston's obsession with textures

A parable of stagnant, dead systems and the inevitable

Reviewing some photographs from a collection of a trip to my homeland, La Paz, Bolivia, in search of my grandfathers' lands.

Inevitably it is necessary to give a historical perspective of this yearly festival that takes place in the city of La Paz, Bolivia in the first week of June. The celebration transforms and stimulates the social life of La Paz every year, emanating from a particular way of understanding and living Andean Catholicism. The Parade begins with a procession through the western part of the city. This procession is central to the event, involving 40,000 devotees who dance and sing in an offering to the patron saint. The dance has a sacred significance for the sixty-nine fraternities involved, which are greeted in the streets in a euphoric atmosphere where the music of 7,000 musicians resonates. It is so owe inspiring that it is rightfully a UNESCO Wold Heritage event (Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity). The image venerated with dance and music is believed to have arrived in the city at the founding of the convent of the Mothers of the Sacred Conception on the 8th of December 1663.

Walking from the level crossing to Solley's ice cream parlour, the wheat field almos ready to harvest. Ripple is near Walmer and Deal, Kent.

An image based on Jorge Luis Borges' short story: Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius where it is believe that the inhabitants of that land abhorred mirrors because they multiply the illusory universe.

Ten views of a handful of valleys around the city of La Paz, Bolivia. What is apparent is the magnitude of the hills and mountains that surround this city, all of them exploding with subtle colours.

Listening to Marvyn Peake's 'Gormenghast'...