“My memory is not particularly good.

A couple of months ago I received a couple of rolls of film in the mail that I had left at my photo lab some time ago.

Everything was as I expected, except for one roll of medium format film.

I had absolutely no memory of taking one of the photos on that roll while the rest was totally familiar. The more I looked at the photo, the more I got lost. I couldn’t understand where or when it was taken.
It didn’t look like anything I’d shot before.

The image is out of focus and blurred in only one corner where a man seems to be walking towards the camera and a woman follows him. Their clothes recall the ‘60s, and their faces are unclear. The place looks like the entrance of a mansion and reminded me of a post-funeral scene, or maybe a wedding. Even though I continued looking at the images for weeks, I couldn’t understand where it came from.

I was at war with my memory.

Photography had turned against me.

My efforts at capturing the situation had turned inside out, leaving me with confusion and ambiguity. A moment of clearness gave way to scepticism. Once again, I started summing up on why I photograph, on the scenes and subjects that interest me. I often found myself attracted to the in-between situations in the landscape of isolation and detachment in society. There is something that fascinates me about how we handle those moments of daily purgatory.

I don’t usually photograph people but when I do, I found myself in some ways looking for their “ghosts”.

This time, they seem to have found me.”

︎   ︎