SERGI PÀMIES

Flight without motor

SERGI PÀMIES 18/01/2004 (PUBLISHED IN EL PAIS NEWSPAPER)

In the mini-city of the teaching which has made the Industrial College of Urgell street in Barcelona is the Institut d'Estudis Fotogràfics de Catalunya. The basement exhibition hall presents an exhibition of the work of Sergi Reboredo Manzanares called White magic of 'speedball' in Barcelona. As the title might seem the notice of a rave, but no. The pictures sum up the reality of heroin addicts who are punctured under the infamous Bridge Ronda Litoral, in Can Tunis. The material part of a book, with text by Manuel Trallero. Through the NGO that is responsible for exchanging clean needles for used, Reboredo agreed to the territory of helplessness. With as what drugs, occurs as rivers. It begins with an innocent stream, then the river flow increases and starts to drag impurities, without the consumer ever get to swim and eat. Later, the mainstream tributaries leads to unexpected and, finally, after meandering or cataracts, results in a muddy delta or, in specific cases, terminal.

Can Tunis is the last delta. In the photographs of Reboredo there necks, hands and arms riddled. The black and white contrasts and enhances the natural look does not fall into the visual demagoguery. Portraying this kind of reality is difficult: it seems you can take advantage of others' pain or that, in exchange for posing, the junkies will demand that they pay the dose. In this sense, the work of a verismo Reboredo is final, fruit, tells me many hours of approach and confidence. In one of the photos, deliberately moved, there is a woman, crying, beside himself, held by two men trying to take it from there. Scenario was to find his son and found none. Or worse still: he found it. There are dead rats on beds of needles and looks intoxicated by habit trying to maintain some dignity. Many times, consumers of such drugs compared with their first experience of flying without having to board a plane. In Can Tunis, aircraft have crashed and the passengers are dying.

These photographs may illustrate many texts on the effects of the drug. The obsession with Lee Stringer speaks in Grand Central Winter: "Methadone for breakfast. Crack to eat. Pico for dinner." The unit on Ann Marlowe writes in How to stop time: "What I disliked about my progression toward addiction was that every time there were fewer moments in my life that were not related to heroin." The self-destructive lucidity with which Sabino Mendez discuss it in Run, rocker: "The problem, the real problem of drugs in our century of human exaggerated claims and disappointing is simply that they are too rich." Self-criticism of Charles Duchaussois in Flash: "The drama of the drug when they stop taking drugs: the memory of his ordeal is quickly erased the memory of his pleasures increasingly exacerbated." They are first-person, but there are those who approach the world with more literary distance. Pau is the case of Arenas, who in his story Junkie (We were not modern enough), also portrays the reality of Can Tunis: "There are drug addicts who never leave here, living under the bridge to be close to the camels. prick up to 12 times a day. " In one of the photos, you receive one of them with a syringe stuck in his arm and back, one painted to be the most impressive of the captions: "The strength is in you."