Sandra Rosa Madalena

Guiding the viewer’s eye is a discipline I have spent years developing. I build visual pathways with care, directing attention towards the elements I want to bring forward. Yet the photograph can take an unexpected turn once that intention has done its work. The image begins to suggest things I never set out to put there. That is when it becomes most interesting to me.

Art doesn’t always lead to an answer. A photograph can stir memories, awaken feelings, and open the door to poetry without settling into a single interpretation. Some connections only emerge when we stop trying to explain everything. They belong to the experience of looking, rather than to any argument we might construct around it.

This photograph has made me aware of that distinction. I knew how to lead the eye straight to Sebastian Simonetto. The composition was deliberate, and so was the yellow, which helped establish the visual direction. But I hadn’t accounted for what might happen beyond that point. Something in the image unsettles the order I had so carefully arranged. I set out to make a precise photograph and ended up with a question I cannot put to rest.

Then Sidney Magal makes an appearance.

Whenever I look at this photograph, I hear him singing Sandra Rosa Madalena. The song has absolutely nothing to do with skateboarding. There is no hidden meaning to uncover, no sensible explanation for the connection. It simply happened. And because I cannot explain it, the association has become part of what this photograph means to me.

Maybe there’s nothing to solve. Some thoughts arrive without being invited and stay with us beyond the reach of reason. This one comes with a soundtrack, too, and it plays in my head on an endless loop.