Time. Faces. Gestalt.
A disguised truth, a forgotten piece of clothing, a memento.
What do all these pictures mean?
Are they a certificate of an existence passing by or just a self-evident act of hopeless immortality imprisoned in a picture frame?
Is it the punctum?
Photographs create a web, an invisible bond by the people who left
but before their departure they abandoned pictures taken in an instant with
clenched lips, stiff and frozen bodies, standing straight, gazing into
emptiness, full of resignation and acceptance of the forgone course.
In-between chemical spoiling, lack of harmony and making wrong decisions that cross over to memories and traces of forgotten affection, a patriarchy that lays its shadow over one generation after the other, an underlying cruelty and sometimes a geometrical nothing.
Time after time all these faces acquire a supernatural character, as if they are opening the road for the transition from one reality to another. They turn into symbols, either separately or with a connection between them, they compose a known handwriting, a familiarity without identity. As if I know them. As if they know me, without really knowing me. All of them, known or unknown, shaped without knowing through their evanescent passing in our lives, part of our choices, the way we look at the sky, how we count the stars, how we hold our cup of coffee.
© Translation by: Anastasia Chormova
" I am half-sleepwalker and half-creator. "