Simó Molina Solanich
Barcelona—Ciudad de México
Canon EOS 3, Olympus Mju II
Kodak Portra 800
Photography
Passionate about analog 35mm photography, I’ve been capturing the world through my lens since childhood. My photography lets me extrapolate my vision, and frame the absurd, yet weirdly beautiful mess of a world we live in.
Writing
Writing is where I make peace with the feeling that I should be somewhere else. My poetry lingers in longing; aching for lost time, distant places, and people that never fully belonged to me.
But to myself I am immeasurable; a net whose fibres pass imperceptibly beneath the world. My net is almost indistinguishable from that which it surrounds. It lifts whales–huge leviathans and white jellies, what is amorphous and wandering; I detect, I perceive. Beneath my eye opens–a book; I see to the bottom; the heart–I see to the depths. I know what loves are trembling into fire; how jealousy shoots its green flashes hither and thither; how intricately love crosses love; love makes knots; love brutally tears them apart. I have been knotted; I have been torn apart.
Virginia Woolf, The Waves
December Orchids 