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Category: Travel

I walked through Strada Mercanti (Merchants Street) then down toward Strada San Paolo (St Pauls’ Street) and stopped there to have a look at the balconies that so dominantly govern the upper views of the streets.  Suddenly, thoughts from my past when I was still a child, I used to wonder who had ever built such a great city, so strong, so invincible.  Today I see the crumbling walls, the buildings mostly uninhabited, the doors tattered by time.

All 20 photographs focus on the capital city of Valletta, that rests dominant on Mt Schiberras.  I shot most of the images during night time when shadows and the absence of natural light brings out the real character of the city that most people ignore.

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One memory that I recall very well is the view of the old market from St Paul’s Street.  As a child I used to look up and see those magnificent balconies, the market structure, the elaborate masonry that adorns every corner.  Those big wooden doors aged and tattered by the elements, but at the same time still holding strong, hiding secrets between walls that have been there for centuries.

My aim in this exhibition is to bring out those moments when Valletta is calm and quiet, so that one can hear her voice, aged but still dominant and convincing. A city so very well fortified that even today one can still feel protected within her walls.

I visit the capital city of Valletta several times and never return empty handed, there is always that spot I have not looked into, and somehow it feels like a relationship that slowly evolves and matures by time only to get better and better.

I have chosen to work in black and white because it gives more impact to the subject. I feel that such architecture, should not be lost within color but should speak for itself through shadows and the balance between light and darkness.

These are not just photos of a city they are snapshots of history, of a culture, a presence that has left permanent impact on today’s society.

More info

“My World” photographic exhibition has been extended for another month so here is another chance for anyone who could not make it, for the past weeks.

 

After the great feedback received the committee of the centre  suggested  an extended viewing period at “Ir-Razzett tal Markiz Mallia Tabone”.  Click here for more details.

 

I would like to thank all those who visited and also for those who left their thoughts and greetings on the visitors book.  It has been a great pleasure to meet some of you during the opening and also throught the exhibition period.

 

Anyone who may wish to visit off the visiting hours please just send me an email on info@rchircop.com and i’ll make sure to be there and accompany you for the viewing.

Thank you.

 


 

The weekend passed and with it the opening of the current exhibition that is still on show till the 16th of July at the “Razzett Tal Markiz Mallia Tabone” in Mosta.

My world is an exhibition that emerged from a question,  that set me thinking about why do I do what I do through photography.  Going back through images and instances that have passed through my camera’s sensor I realize how my mood and my feelings were somehow transformed into images.

And it is incredible how sometimes there are things in life that we do, and without knowing exactly why we do them.

The opening that was held on Saturday 2nd July by the curator and artist himself Henry Alamango went by through the cool evening accompanied by those present who could enjoy the views and the niceties of the gallery itself.

Thanks to all who somehow contributed for this wonderful evening.


 

 

Photos by : Owen Vella & Lorrain Miruzzi

In the shade, under an old Franciscan construction part of a monastery, watching a storm approach towards the place I rest.  It felt odd that I was in the shade after walking up a steep hill in the scorching sun and now watching a storm buildup just minutes away from a real heavy shower.

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In pairs we walk through the tunnel, contained through a rusting fence, prohibited from moving around within a diameter of a maximum of 5, maybe 7 meters. The wooden benches carved and tattered, aged through the passage of time and the weathering of this anguished environment, dirty, filthy, unwelcoming. The walls, dug out by the blowing winds of winter and scraped by the scorching rays of summer, a process recalled by these walls for ages. The obscene frescoes on these walls are the only most recent addition which contrary to the rest seem to increase as more of us pass by through the years. Graffiti that display history, nationality and maybe even state of mind.

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