There are a few artistic fields (i.e. Fashion photography, interior design, singer-songwriter pop music, etc.) which remain to this day whole-heartedly committed to the idea of 'art' which emerged in the eighties, a kind of halfway station between celebrity culture and bohemian hedonism with a generous serving of low-hanging intellectual references. It has very little to do with the actual world, market or practice of art. It's a hazy fantasy of middle-class disalienation, where work and leisure magically coincide for a select few. Like most superficial notions, presenting it visually can sometimes ease or hide the shallowness of its conception. Here unfortunately, the painfully slow and self-satisfied visual narration is interspersed with the oral recounting of the 'philosophy' (FW: Chopra & Coelho) behind the film.
The love-life of a photographer could certainly make an interesting film, and also an occasion for reflection on film, photography and their relation. Unfortunately here all you get is I a vague montage of sun-drenched Instagram reels, interspersed with self-important pronouncements about 'artistic inspiration' and 'the meaning of life'.
