” Every photo is a moment lost in time.
I spend much time in the stations watching and waiting for a moment of clarity, for a truth vision. Maybe I’m waiting for that mystical lonely whistle of the last slow train home.
I like the patterns of humanity in transit, I’m addicted. Photography has taught me patients so I wait with my Leica set for a decisive moment like Bresson Gilden and Robert Frank, they weigh heavy on the mind of every street kid with a camera.
I exist I was here this is my testimony this is how it felt to be here.
Trains are the great metaphor of life, I tried to escape from reality for decade now I search for real moments that convey what I means to be humans.
Photography, graffiti, music, its all the same to me, but everyting I do has a meaning, it does not exist for its own sake.
My photos are like the words of Jack Keroac or the poems of Allen Ginsberg, they have a heart beat.
I’m trying to tell stories the stories of humanity in transit, humanity in stransit from birth to death.
The other day my friend from Manchester sent me a photo of graffiti from 1990 that made me cry as, under the piece was written by me R.I.P Mason 29.12.89. Mason was my friend who committed suicide on Christmas eve in the youth detention centre we were both in.
That’s the power of photography, Mason lives on trough that photo, it’s human to feel melanchily that’s a big parto of my photoghrapy. “