Valse Triste

Fragments of everyday life, trivial events that exert a fascination on us that we cannot fully understand. Lazy, disinterested Sunday activities, contrasting impressions given by the contemplation of an idyllic alpine landscape or a bucolic scene painted on the walls of a foul-smelling underpass. Sweet wanderings in search of a little freedom, escaping from our small Western comfort transformed into a concrete prison of social life, addictions, vain pleasures, and discomfort. We try to capture a little imaginary solitude in the hustle and bustle, a little happy poetry in disillusionment to curb cynicism. Nature, in which we seek authenticity, comfort, and feelings of greater purity, reminds us of our contradictions and this inevitably anthropized world, from which we cannot escape and in which our small attempts at rebellion remain stifled. From these scattered shots, we draw malleable interpretations, trying to compose a coherent, tender, and bitter piece, searching for the right balance between small joys and their sad counterpoints.