It was about two and a half years ago, when on a summer day I became a little transfixed looking at the house of the old medical doctor, in the tiny Portuguese town where my family comes from. I had seen this house many times, since I was a little boy. But that day, I am not sure why, maybe it was the light, or maybe it was something happening in my heart. Looking at it, I saw myself from the outside: a young boy drawing lonely houses on massively large, clean spaces, under crystalline, pastel blue skies with swirling clouds.
That day, the boy became a man who was ready and willing to bring those drawings and their message back for himself, and for others who could also see themselves in those small colourful houses that grew large antennas to connect to the sky, and send birds out as carriers of secret messages.
It all began with my mobile phone, but the journey took me to more sophisticated cameras, editing tools, more attention to detail, more awareness of the houses’ character. I started seeing them as wholes and now I look at them almost as organisms, with veins, muscles and bones. I have been blessed with spending time with the owners of many of these houses, and heard their beautiful stories. It is incredible to feel like this is only chapter one over. That a chapter two now begins for this hunter of lonely houses.
The house of spring birds.