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Unknown Familiar

Our daily routine becomes so familiar that we don’t even acknowledge what’s happening around us. Buried by the noise, by the usual, it lays a complex multitude of stories. Only untill we move away, or we simply stop walking a familiar road on our daily commute to work we start seeing things with a new set of eyes and understand that what’s familiar, it’s actually still far from being known.

 

I lived in Santa Barbara, California, for three years and before moving back home to Italy I decided to take images of my neighborhood, of the places and things that I’ve seen regularly everyday and that soon would become a blurred memory.

While out taking these images, the simple act of recording these familiar places changed to a deeper meaning. New things I’ve never acknowledged before caught my eyes and and a new layer of meaning surfaced from the known reality of my neighborhood: what I was surrounded by had a story I previously didn’t even see, or I was simply too accustomed to see.

A new fascination started growing on me: what I thought I know, what we call “familiar” was actually not familiar at all. Everything was new. Little I knew of the underneath layer, of the stories around me. All of the sudden, mistery surfaced in the known.

 

The perception we have of reality is limited by our experience of it. Whatever we call familiar, what we think we know still remains alien to us.

 

Our daily routine becomes so familiar that we don’t even acknowledge what’s happening around us. Buried by the noise, by the usual, it lays a complex multitude of stories. Only untill we move away, or we simply stop walking a familiar road on our daily commute to work we start seeing things with a new set of eyes and understand that what’s familiar, it’s actually still far from being known.

I lived in Santa Barbara, California, for three years and before moving back home to Italy I decided to take images of my neighborhood, of the places and things that I’ve seen regularly everyday and that soon would become a blurred memory.

While out taking these images, the simple act of recording these familiar places changed to a deeper meaning. New things I’ve never acknowledged before caught my eyes and and a new layer of meaning surfaced from the known reality of my neighborhood: what I was surrounded by had a story I previously didn’t even see, or I was simply too accustomed to see.

A new fascination started growing on me: what I thought I know, what we call “familiar” was actually not familiar at all. Everything was new. Little I knew of the underneath layer, of the stories around me. All of the sudden, mistery surfaced in the known.

The perception we have of reality is limited by our experience of it. Whatever we call familiar, what we think we know still remains alien to us.