Blasé dodge

Vicente Rigobello seems to dodge Victor Ikeda as though the trick unfolding in front of him had nothing to do with him. Hence the title: the dodge belongs to the defensive vocabulary of boxing; blasé describes the attitude of someone who receives the extraordinary with apparent indifference. Perhaps it is a coincidence. That uncertainty is what interests me.

I photographed from very close up, using a 200–600mm lens that was far too large for that space. The distance between the planes contracted: the bay came forward, Vicente appears displaced, and the bowl, although farther away, disappeared from the visual reading. Victor’s trick took on a different spatial relationship with Vicente.

My photography grows out of an interest in the street and in what happens when no one needs to perform for the camera. I prefer chance, spontaneity, the expression that belongs to a person before they know they are being watched. The telephoto lens allows me to remain outside the situation. I want the scene to unfold without me.

Over time, that distance became part of my visual language. Compression brings planes closer together and creates relationships that the actual space did not offer. In this image, it made the bay advance over the skatepark and brought two athletes separated by depth closer together.

Perhaps that is why the title works: Vicente did not need to know about Victor to appear indifferent to his passing. The lens invented that relationship. By a few inches of depth, coincidence became narrative.