by Mario Ramos
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Doors and windows become something more and take a life of its own.
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Photography and Text Mario Ramos Layout design IdeaNuts, New York Editing and Translation Jennifer Freedman Author’s photograph by Céleo Ramos All images and text © 2011 Mario Ramos Photography
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Mario Ramos was born in Honduras, in 1977. Although he always enjoyed photography, it wasn’t until he came to the United States in 2007 that he bought his first camera and started to take pictures. Before becoming a photographer Mario worked for many years as a television producer and was exposed to many forms of art, such as theater, film, music, as well as photography. More recently he has worked as a photographer for The Washington Post / El Tiempo Latino and CBS Corporation. Mario’s images arouse curiosity and provoke an emotional response from the viewer. This is true of all of Mario’s photography; his artistic vision allows him to create images that share a common style no matter what the subject.
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Special Thanks to Yolanda Reina, Emily Pavetto, CĂŠleo Ramos, Maryann McGowan, Juan Pablo Vacatello, Peter Manzelli, Omar Zelaya and all those that in a way or the other have inspired me to shpe this project.
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In memory of my dad.
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It is fascinating how it is possible to have an emotional connection with an inanimate and man-made object. Things that are well made tend to get more beautiful as they age. Mario’s windows and doors capture the life that existed around them. The objects become something more and take on a life of its own. No matter where Mario travels he finds places and things that have similarities that create a body of work. To see them as a collection, we begin to delve into the personality of the photographer. There is a message in each one that echoes from cover to cover. Peter Manzelli Artist/Photographer
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The sound of silence overflows the place like a fine orchestra where the shadow of the wind envelopes with her hush those doors and windows that little by little die framing time.
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Mirrors and broken glass scattered everywhere. An exquisite variety of delicate spiderwebs nearly completely covers the luxurious windows that lit those rooms for so many years. Walls decorated with graffiti that subtlely merges with the indelible stains made by time. Rays of light lightly penetrate weathered crystals. Broken stained glass and destroyed picture frames, scattered stones are frequent visitors to many of these places. Beautiful doors of fine wood with strange carvings, badly damaged by moths. Latches and frames of bronze wrapped in dust accumulated from years of forgetfulness and mystery. Large balconies form part of the beautiful architecture, victim of man’s neglect. Simple structures that harbored destroyed luxuries and the memories of no one. Places that seem to be forever inhabited by the infinite silence that dissolves in the bustle of the street; spaces that for many have lost their luxury and enchantment, moments of abandonment and dissipated memories. The sound of silence overflows the place like a fine orchestra where the shadow of the wind envelopes with her hush those doors and windows that little by little die framing time.
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Treme, New Orleans 2010
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Treme, New Orleans 2010
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Washington, DC 2011
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Washington, DC 2011
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Washington, DC 2011
Treme, New Orleans 2010
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1527 Treme, New Orleans 2010
Places that seem to be forever inhabited by the infinite silence that dissolves in the bustle of the street. Sound of sirens, lights and colors. Jazz, blues, dance and laughter. Legends of singers and dissipated memories. Rich history of American Creole and Africa. Artists and desires, colors and adornments, spaces that have lost their luxury and enchantment. Games, songs, dances, children and pain. Dusty streets plated with oblivion, multicolored houses and weathered doors. Empty places and rusted windows. Creoles, Blacks and music, history and pain. The house 1527 is a small space of contrasts, one more that populates Treme, place of pride and indifference, of sparkling gazes, desires and hope; one of the principal and oldest neighborhoods of New Orleans.
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St Augustine, Florida 2010
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St Augustine, Florida 2010
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St Augustine, Florida 2010
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St Augustine, Florida 2010
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St Augustine, Florida 2010
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St Augustine, Florida 2010
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St Augustine, Florida 2010
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St Augustine, Florida 2010
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St Augustine, Florida 2010
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Washington, DC 2011
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The next door Comayagua, Honduras 2008
Beautiful doors of fine wood with strange metal carvings, attractive architecture, faded walls, beauty and prayers, impoverished faces, sorrows and fettered desires. Latches and frames of metal assured to prevent the entry of little demons and to stop the exit of dreams. Sacred temples and centuries of pain, spaces of hope that are closed to many. Jewels and dreams locked behind the walls of the fortress of faith. Tears, songs and books rest every day to the sound of the ancient clock. The other door, the small one, is that which protects with chains the entrance to the house of God, built by the Spanish usurpers in 1564 in Santa MarĂa de la Nueva Valladolid de Comayagua, now simply Comayagua.
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Comayagua, Honduras 2008
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Treme, New Orleans 2010
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Washington, DC 2011
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Brooklyn, New York 2011
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Brooklyn, New York 2011
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Brooklyn, New York 2011
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Washington, DC 2011
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The Lady of the Balconies Tegucigalpa,Honduras 2009
Balconies of wrought metal embrace large wooden doors that decorate the beautiful architecture, victim of human neglect, simple structure that harbors destroyed and memories of no one. Small spaces from where someone observes each night the walkers that return to chain the dreams that have been destroyed by the gentiles of disgrace. Poets and workers, singers and lawyers. Drunks, thieves or representatives. An unhappy multitude that parades in front of the castle of adobe, witness to so many stories of struggle and romance, of adventure, of passion, of mystery and even coup d’états. The Lady of the Balconies, is only one of three old balconies that discretely rests above the street “The Ladies” en Tegucigalpa, Honduras. Lane that leads to the neighborhood of La Leona, one of the oldest and most pleasant corners of the city, called such because of a legend from the 19th century that says that a lioness that wandered around these mountains terrorizing the miners of the area.
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Adams Morgan, Washington, DC 2011
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U St. Washington, DC 2011
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U St. Washington, DC 2011
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Williamsburg, New York 2011
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Birmingham, Alabama 2008
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Washington, DC 2011
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Washington, DC 2011
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The Window of Augustine St Augustine, Florida 2010
Historic fortresses, colonial Spanish buildings, elite architecture from the 19th century. City filled with history, blood, freedom and pain. Houses and ages, rays of light that mildly penetrate the worn crystal. Broken stained glass and destroyed frames, reflections of illusion, color and freedom. Vulgar tourism, slavery and apathy. Hostility, vengeances and movements. Struggles against segregation and protests. Stories recorded in the memory of few who dissipate with the years. Invisible spaces, masses of people without flavor, shadows that obscure the colored windows with indifference. The window of Augustine rests silently in one of the alleys of the city of St. Augustine, Florida from where it quietly observes the castle of San Marcos, the oldest fortress in the United States that still stands.
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Mount Pleasant, Washington, D.C. 2011
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Brooklyn, New York 2011
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All images and text Š 2011 Mario Ramos Photography marioramosphotography.com
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