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Police dog / Stray dog: Miguel Marquês at Serralves

Tick off whichever of the two options presented in the title seems the least appropriate to you, because I must admit I could not decide which one best represents the metaphor I am attempting to explore (inspired both by the photos of dogs in the exhibition and by the rather informative room handout[1]). I therefore settled on the intersection between both, or a kind of rotation that I’ll go on to discuss in a moment.

The other day I learnt about a video installation in Zurich by the artist Roman Selim Khereddine[2], in which a policeman and his dog partner roam around the uninhabited exhibition area, the same location where the exhibition was to take place. I found it curious that the non-human protagonist was there – as is always the case – happily carrying out a duty that is beyond it, far from its immediate interest, as it will surely do so for more instinctive purposes. The honouring of this role is rewarded by adding the title to its species name – police dog -, an addition that means nothing to it, as perhaps it would prefer to do something else.

Bearing this in mind – but ignoring for the moment any relationship with our lives and work -, I started wondering about this project by Miguel Marquês, whose conception – and even the very act of exhibiting – does not seem to be (and I do not deny a certain simplification) the purpose of his photography, even though this is absolutely essential.

The room text tells us that Miguel Marquês met a Moldovan immigrant called Valentin Perpelita through the medium. He eventually returned to his home country with some disposable cameras given to him by the photographer, on the promise that he would send them back with the journey documented and left undeveloped. Having received no reply for several months, Miguel Marquês embarked on a somewhat Kiarostamian plot, making the same journey by bus to Chișinău. But those who think that this is just an On the Road[3] kind of adventure are mistaken: his work is conceptually different from that of photographers like Mouriyama, because it is not just about ‘being on the move’; rather, it appears to me to be about exorcising that urge to move around – and to photograph – a territory that was, at one point, alien to him, and which, after losing its estrangement, also loses its ability to suppress that need. The off-field, the unframing, the ground are formal elements present in the photographs that plastically contribute to reinforcing this notion of representing an unfamiliar territory, with a dangerous aura – or at least this is what the images tell me – where there is a sense of shame in photographing. This is only possible in a distant reality, without being overly so.

Wim Wenders, another wandering filmmaker, once said in a conversation in Lisbon[4] that there is hardly any point in filming big Western cities anymore, as they are all the same. Perhaps the photographer found this trip an opportunity to encounter the new subjects, plots, themes and characters he was looking for in Lisbon, where he already called the subjects of his activity his friends, and it was precisely one of them who opened the door to a new world and perhaps a certain reinvention of his work.

I found it interesting that the room text describes the buildings that the photographer kept collecting as having a ‘dubious purpose’ and ‘questionable usefulness’, as they draw a parallel with the desertion of the purpose that brought him to this place initially, at least as far as photography is concerned. If we are to fall back on the metaphor, he goes from being a police dog to a stray dog, without ever neglecting his duty, but doing so with a different purpose, and he almost makes us feel that the future use of the photographs is of no concern to him.

Miguel Marquês is the winner of the Novobanco Revelation Award, recognising emerging names in the field of photography. The exhibition Walking Thru the Sleepy City at Porto’s Serralves Foundation is the prize’s return to the museum and will run until January 19, 2025.

 

[1] The room text was written by Ricardo Nicolau.
[2] The exhibition Bite My Hand by Roman Selim Khereddine was on show at the Helmhaus until June 16, 2024.
[3] Book by Jack Kerouac.
[4] It took place at Cinema Nimas, on the occasion of the 25th anniversary of the film Lisboa Story.

Tiago Leonardo (Lisbon, 2000) graduated in Art and Heritage Sciences (FBAUL) and attended the Cultural Journalism course (SNBA). He is currently finishing his master's degree in Aesthetics and Artistic Studies, specializing in cinema and photography (NOVA/FSSH) where he focuses his research on post-photography within the Portuguese artistic context. In his work as a writer, he collaborates with several publications; such as the CineBlog of the Philosophy Institute of the UNL, FITA Magazine, among others.

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