Ventanas Nocturnas X www.ventanasnocturnas.com
Ventanas Nocturnas X
Marcus Loerbroks
Ventanas Nocturnas X Barbara
Š Marcus Loerbroks 2010. Please don't use any photographs, texts or parts of this catalog without my prior written consent. Thank you !
Ventanas Nocturnas It was five o’ clock of a cold and rainy afternoon in Amsterdam, when Jean Marc and I, still without knowing what we were doing in that place of the world, decided to give a look at the Van Gogh Museum. At the end of our journey through its incredible rooms and halls, we decided to explore a dark corridor in the lower plant of the building, and there, around a corner, we found a painting of Edward Hopper ( 1882-1967 ). It showed a woman, in underwear, bending to pick up something in her room, at nighttime. It looked as if someone was observing this scene of everyday intimacy from the building in front…it was a revelation…a “coup de foudre”. I knew immediately that Edward Hopper’s work was going to be the source of inspiration for a photographic work in my beloved Cartagena de Indias. This idea found its way through the “Ventanas Nocturnas” project, and with the help of some friends, producers and models, and the participation of a few boutique hotels and private houses in Cartagena, we were able to start this project with good energy and direction. The first shots, a series of images of women, in domestic situations, seen from the exterior, with a latent erotic tension, as if somebody was observing them from a distance, are already traveling through the world, revealing, once more, the voyeuristic impulse we all have. Marcus Loerbroks
BARBARA. The paintress and her model. Barbara was living in a huge semi abandoned house in the center of the city behind the church of San Pedro Claver. I always wondered how she could live there, alone, without being afraid at night, by the obscurity reigning in the long corridors and large patios of the house, and without being disturbed by the shadows of the ghosts of 500 years of history that live in every single house of Cartagena. I didn't know her very well, I just met her a few times in social gatherings at the Museum of Modern Art just around the block. We just said hello and she probably had no idea of who I was. But there was something that marked the relationship I had with her. I was her neighbour. I lived in the house next to hers. Our houses were separated by tall walls that seemed to separate us completely. But there were two small windows, almost invisible from her house, that allowed me to look into her house, without practically being noticed. I used to give a look at her almost every day. She was almost always at home, painting and drinking red wine. Sometimes it seemed she spent days in a row on a painting, without eating or resting, with a solitary excitement on what she was creating. She used to pass out on the couch or the chair in her studio, almost naked, her hands and body covered with paint. It became a routine to see her like that, every day, when I came home, before getting into something else. It was like a secret and very personal rendez-vous we had. She just didn't know, but she was always there. Then, one night, when I casually gave a look through one of the windows, I saw she was not alone. She was in her studio with a guy. They were talking and having some wine. I couldn't move away from my point of observation. I was stuck. More than surprised. For the first time in years, somebody was with her and she looked really excited at him being there. He didn't have his shirt on and I could see through the distance and darkness that separated us, that Barbara was troubled and excited by his presence. They both were smoking and drinking and Barbara was talking loudly and agitated. She prepared her brushes and paints and readied a canvas. I could smell this mixture of oils, thinners, cigarette smoke and marijuana coming through my window. Barbara turned the music on, approached her model and convinced him to take his pants off. She instructed him to pose and move as she wanted. It lasted for hours. Barbara moved frantically between the canvas and her model. Changed brushes, mixed colors and painted as if she was possessed. She looked excited and troubled as not knowing what to do with what she was feeling that night. Probably out of exhaustion, she stopped painting, turned the music off and told him something. They left the studio and walked towards the kitchen. She prepared some spaghetti al pommodoro, organized the table on the nearby terrace and had dinner. They both looked hungry, not on food but on getting closer and fulfilling the desire that had been growing for hours. He grabbed her and took her to the bedroom. And, under my eyes, for the first time, I saw Barbara giving herself to a man.
01
02
03
04
05
06
07
08
09
Limited edition prints GyclĂŠe prints on fine art paper: 16'' x 23'' signed and numbered from 1 to 100 20'' x 28'' signed and numbered from 1 to 50
Marcus Loerbroks C 786 271-0477 M marcusloerbroks@yahoo.com W www.ventanasnocturnas.com
Š Marcus Loerbroks 2010 117 NE 1st Avenue Loft 901 Miami, Fl 33132 USA