Rafael calls his pictures "Broken Dreams", Moriyama called his pictures fears, D'Agata called them obsession and darkness.
Bottom line, all the above fall under what André Breton termed "convulsive beauty" in the Manifesto of Surrealism.
The same goes for Kertesz's distortions, Man Ray's violin, Atget's shop windows ...
Dadaism appeared post WWI, hand-by-hand with Surrealism as an anti-bourgeois protest "against this world of mutual destruction." As a scream against the madness of collective homicide.
But why now, at times of relative peace, this cyclical re-emerging of the opposite of everything? Why still go beyond aesthetics, offending the established harmony?
It is because almost two centuries of photography could not convince us that perfection in art can perdure. Better technologies, cameras, films, lenses, sensors came to provide crisp images able to be magnified at gigantic levels. And yet, we merrily and happily embrace Man Ray's words: "I would photograph an idea rather than an object, a dream rather than an idea." (Photos by Rafael Ianos)
The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!" - from "On the road" by Jack Kerouac
Pictures by Svilen Nachev from his traveling with Bulgarian State Railways in 2017