Nazaré, Portugal, 1956
Fotografia de Édouard Boubat
You know, in photography we use some marvelous words, like "aperture." One is the camera's diaphragm, which is a mechanical thing, but there is also our own "aperture", our own opening up to reality. Take the photo of the man on the seashore. It was my first trip to Portugal, I believe it was in 1956. In those days traveling seemed extraordinary, there were very few tourists, we had been on the road for two or three days, we arrived at a hotel by the seaside, Sophie was a little tired, and I said, "I am going to the beach," I had only my little old Leica, and that man was there, click. I had only arrived half an hour before, but there he was, with his child, as if he had been waiting for me, and so I took my first photo of Portugal, a photo that will endure. I had come a long way, I had dreamt of Portugal, so in a sense I too was waiting for him, there was expectation on both sides. In some way, a photo is like a stolen kiss. In fact a kiss is always stolen, even if the woman is consenting. With a photograph it's the same: always stolen, and still slightly consenting.
Edouard Boubat em entrevista a Frank Horvat, que pode ler na íntegra aqui