Unsophisticated

There is the paradox, there is the excess, and I have witnessed it, not criticized it. The reference to the grotesque is almost spontaneous, but it is the superficial part of a way of life in my land.

As a young aspiring photojournalist I aspired to high-level stories. But the lockdown and the subsequent economic crisis have crushed all my valid expectations. Left without any certainty and with a family on my shoulders, I bowed my head and accepted low-level jobs: the photographer of popular parties and ceremonies. Because, despite the blow to the economy inflicted by the crisis, in my part of my country, weddings, communions, baptisms and various anniversaries continue to be a handsome business.
Despite the initial aversion to what I was doing, I realized that I was not only a witness to events on the borderline between excess and paradox, but I had been officially invested in witnessing their spectacularization. I understood that mine was a position of privilege. Whatever the circumstances, the protagonists (whether they were spouses or newborn children) were thrown into a tornado of activity. Disoriented by the hustle and bustle of the day and by the emotion, they were the protagonists of dances with semi-naked dancers, rather than orchestrated by photos and video-operators to repeat gestures and moments that had nothing spontaneous, or watch the video of their celebration, promptly edited and projected at the reception. So much so that it seems to attend a show within a show, rather than a ritual, where every extravagance and exaggeration are justified by virtue of that occasion.
I have kept a respectful approach, also considering the intimacy of the ceremonies.