I remember tiptoeing through Seville searching for the ghost of a woman. It was like dancing with silk swallowtail wings amid a Sirocco wind.
The formidable Carmen, part femme fatale, part heroine. She is a true fable for cameras and archeologists to search for.
I likened myself to the French writer/archeologist Merimee, and the composer Bizet before me. I wanted my pictures to embody this woman’s story. I hoped my travels would become a great history for my camera.
I have been documenting my life through portraits and architecture for many decades. The idea of searching for Carmen from Barcelona to Seville seemed like a rewarding respite from my photographic routines.
I chose to begin my travels in Barcelona to prepare my camera and my eyes for the Castilian light I would engage in Seville.
I knew it was a good decision when I started to notice how light flitted atop the junctions of buildings and encroached upon shadows that may have hidden secrets of Castiles’ past.
As I watched the lights advance through the days like armies in the night, I knew that something was fresh before my eyes. I realized that the Carmen led narrative might advance my notions of photography. All photographers need a narrative of sorts.
Even when a goal might seem unattainable it is the narratives’ meaning that inspires and keeps us afoot. Alas, I knew I would not find Carmen in Barcelona.
Armed with visual inspiration I arrived in Seville, to stir up the Castilian streets.
Instantly the streets were enrapt throughout with Bizet’s Carmen. I listened to Flamenco steps echoing between the streets. Merimees’s story of love and tragedy guided my camera.
The mysteries of light and shadow enabled me to espy the ghost of Carmen in ways I could never have imagined. At first it was dark in the way that Holly Martins espied his friend Harry Lime in Carol Reed’s “The Third Man”. Between shadows lurked my subject. I knew that she was there. I knew that Carmen did not want to be found. I was certain that the reality was a dream.
I quietly heard deafening shouts of “Ole!” from the bullring. My prey was still at large.
I moved my camera to the cafes. Just maybe she was dancing and mingling among the throngs...The hide and seek was powerful. I felt the power of a new angle of repose would allow me to consider what I have seen what I have missed.
I recounted how the cityscape showered me for days with so many visual treats. I crossed so many miles looking for just one single capture.
My stay in Seville was a chapter from a novel mystery. The many adventures I had, allowed me to see Carmen through Spain’s history.
My mind’s eye captured part of a time capsule that has served this photographers’ visual feast for decades.
I never did find Carmen.
