Glances within


   © Photos: Mónica Murillo; Text: Ángel M. Castillo de las Peñas

To look within as if tearing up entrails. Caressing crystal with the gentle murmuring of our breaths.

They can be called shadows from the strong light of the outside, silhouettes blurred on the crystal. Condensation that embraces the mirror while water drops glide down, like tears. Tears like mine.

Peace lies in me. And uncertainty. Not to know when I´ll return to the streets with her.

With my camera.

I capture the self. Now I capture the self.


Through my photographs. The portrait of solitude, perhaps of unease. Of the now.

I capture what cannot be seen, what is not said. What is not imagined.

A shadow appears, a hand through the crystal. Looking out. Looking at us inside. Photography is caressing the soul.

The camera undresses me. Outside. In. And the silence, pants with its tinkling when I make another photograph.

I watch the human figures of the house, of my home. My family.

And the abstract figures.

Its interior.

The inexistence of noise.

And I look outside. Through the curtain. Through the window. The light.

The camera keeps on panting, alive, watching everything.

The light of the blinds leaves feline shadows. Like the wild animals that run outside.

But I am inside. Deep inside of me.

And the cat escapes from its shadow down the staircase.

Like the evasive woman who avoided my portrait on the street.

I miss the outside. The intruding glances through my camera in the crowd. The bustle.

But I look inside. I capture the silence, the interior. Introducing my camera in the heart of the house. In its soul.

I never thought to look so deep inside. To capture so deep inside. To photograph so deep inside ourselves.

Photography always touches the human soul. Looking deep inside. Where no one ever comes.