Nas Entrelinhas is an interview column about handwriting, objects with stories, and everything that doesn't fit into an obvious answer. A space for unlikely lists, unsent letters, and whatever insists on defying a blank page.
In this edition, I invite Mariana Sabido, a photographer. Mariana takes portraits, but above all, she captures the passage of time. Not just in the families she has been following for years, but in how she notices, in the light, yes, but also in what moves us before we know it moves us. She sees what escapes, what almost didn't happen, what is about to disappear. There is something in her of the intimate rawness of Sally Mann, traversed by the world of someone who has lived in London and Brazil and therefore knows that the planet is immense and, at the same time, absurdly fragile.
She plans trips, reads a lot, sees everything. She lives restlessly, as one who allows herself to be dazzled by beauty should live.
She is the friend with whom I share this obsession with beauty and with whom I daydream about slower days. We talk about the countryside as an old love (and old loves themselves), about what moves us and what stays with us. We have a silent pact: to keep inspiring each other. I count on having her always by my side exchanging images, poems, books, films. Our small great treasures.
Here we talked about letters I would have liked to receive, letters we write, papers that are not thrown away, and, of course, her stationery choices.
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Who would you write a letter to on paper?
To my grandmother. Every night she would lie in bed and write letters to everyone. To my daughters, to whom I write continuously. I have boxes of postcards and letters saved for them to open one day. And also to my godfather. For years we wrote to each other via letter.
What inspires you to create?
Cinema, watching a lot of cinema. Looking at children's books. Writing at night. Listening to other people tell their stories.
A book that made an impression on you.
"Quanto tempo tem um dia" (How long is a day) - Susana Moreira Marques. I read it when I had a tiny baby and it resonated with me. Now I'm reading "A Correspondente."
An artist who inspires you.
Sally Mann, for obvious reasons. I greatly admire her work. Wim Wenders for the slowness of his cinema.
An object that lives on your desk.
Paper always. I need to write so I don't forget. A wooden cup that belonged to my Uncle B, when he died my cousin gave it to me exactly as it was, with pencils, pens, eraser, etc.
What is always in your stationery drawer?
Blue pens. Scissors.
What's on your Papelaria Moderna wishlist?
Letter Paper.
What stationery item would you like to exist—that no longer exists, or never existed?
Oh... I never thought about that!
A paper you'll never be able to throw away.
Photographs. Letters.
A note from my grandmother just before she died. Where she gives me her blessing among other things.
A huge number of emails I printed, that my father sent me when I lived in Brazil. He never called me, but almost every week he'd send me an email with news of everyone.
What is the best letter you could receive in the mail?
A letter from my daughters, when they are living on the other side of the world, giving updates.
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