The ballet of reinforced concrete

Apparently, it is an injustice: to confine the freedom of Oscar Niemeyer's curves to the spartan rectangle of photography.
However, architecture (like sculpture), which is a three-dimensional art, provides infinite perspectives and two-dimensional compositions. There are, of course, classical buildings that demand respect for symmetry and rigor of composition, where a step to the side can leave everything crooked and unbalanced. This is not the case with Niemeyer. As you walk through his works, the possibilities multiply, offering diverse and rich views of the same object. When you take a step to the side, curves and straight lines transform into other curves and other straight lines.
If the work of architecture is carried out on paper in order to dream of volume, photography takes the opposite path. The photographer searches for the drawings contained in the volumes, in order to put them back on paper, rediscovering and redesigning the architect's drawing board. In the case of Niemeyer, this task is rewarding. The architect himself designed, for example, the columns of the STF or the Palácio do Planalto in Brasília with the observer in mind. From any point of view, they multiply one after the other, in a kind of architectural ballet. This is also the case of the National Congress. There is a true dance between the domes and the office building as we go around, back and forth. In the Cathedral, without a facade, it is only the background that runs as the observer moves. From inside the MAC in Niterói, the beauty of the landscape passes through the windows, as in a movie. The parabolas of the Church of São Francisco in Pampulha change shape, but they never stop being parabolas. The facade of the Copan is pure optical illusion.
Niemeyer greatly values the capacity for surprise that architecture offers. The photographer's job is to be sensitive to surprise, as if it were possible, in Oscar Niemeyer's case, for things to be otherwise.