an ancient greek street in naples — the original photo

it was never about the place itself — but rather, what we see when we look at that place. what does a world look like through these eyes we see through? eyes which are the sum of our experiences; the contours of our deepest feelings, longings, and reactions; which are, most often, reverse images of our psychic needs. what are the in-built filters we carry with us — which can even make trash look beautiful, and beauty look ugly?

I’m spending my time in naples with one friend for whom italy was always a far-away, romanticized, full-flavored dream — and another, for whom this city is a violent, chaotic place he deliberately ran away from. and in between these two visions of naples, it’s been a slow challenge of discovering my own way of seeing.

what are my filters that I bring with me — to this city, to any city? and what do my filters say about me: what I seek, and what I need?

I did an exercise where I took a photo of Naples and added the filters of the mind — from the perspective of F, who was born and raised here, and from my own perspective. F says it’s pretty accurate.

what does it say about my filter? it seems like a softening, cooling, smoothing way of seeing — with moments of color and silken possibility. and certainly, it applies to far more than just cities: it applies to everything in life. and perhaps this is all that art is: fine tuning that filter, falling deeper into it, and then, sharing its evolution with you.

his filter on napes= — his filter on naples

filters of seeing