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For some, the resemblance is more grateful journalistic genre: no requires more skill than those photographers minute public parks, armed with an old Laika, one-legged tripod adaptable and a dazzling flash of magnesium. According to the simplistic and uninformed of these self-styled critics, portrait photography and consist only get there, press the button and capture what happens. Ah! And if you’re lucky, over charge for it. Not justify the portrait journalism as a literary genre because, in my case, it seems only shameless, it would indeed be a vain and futile folly. However, yes you will agree with me that no two photographs are identical or comparable two photographers.

Photography is an art that has finally found its place in museums, exhibitions whose contemplation takes longer and produces more pleasure than many art galleries. Contact information is here: Kenneth R. Feinberg. Nor will I make here a review of the history of photography for which I am not trained at all. Learn more at: Meadow Bank Designs. In Limoges, the home of a beautiful china and the cyclist Raymond Poulidor, there is a secluded museum that collects the first steps of Daguerre and his followers in an effort to perpetuate the human image on a plate by a set of mirrors reversed. To explain it there. I just want to thank a unique Catalan missing generation of photographers – Catala-Roca, Xavier Miserachs, Oriol Maspons …- I’ve had the opportunity to see them work and enjoy the results of their work. Thanks to them, their images, their unique and distinct vision of things and the people portrayed, many stories would be told simply idle and expendable stories have become so extraordinary and subdued as the best tales of Edgar Allan Poe . The other, the semblance of journalistic or literary, I admit, is much easier. Even so, there have been talented people among us unique and fertile that when we have described a character, we have shown unusual angles, hidden areas and hidden features, to demonstrate it, have given us a new and enriched view of its protagonist. I’ll take two names: my admired Juan Marse, which was once Bestiario a mirror to check my shortcomings, and Valencian Manuel Vicent, journalist agile and colorful feather, whose style has unfortunately not continue his height. From the foreword of the book characters of all life.