2011 - 2013
I do not have any memory of my childhood in which my father would appear. Somehow I always considered his death, when I was two, as a fundamental event in my life. I have always wanted to understand some passages of the past that I never experienced myself. Mostly they are elements that I feel familiar with but at the same time very distant from, like weak shades in my memories and vague episodes of a time that I am not able to remember. In our old family pictures, almost everything seems distant. These images symbolize my memories – unknown and familiar at the same time.
In Family Reflections, I take pictures of myself in places vaguely reminding those that I have seen in our family photographs. At the same time, each of these images defines one basic concept of our ideology – the roots, virility as a symbol of authority, glorification of maternity, obsession with death, or the sacred character of some objects.
Solitude turns into a paradox when it is shared. Words get dissolved – incomplete, fragile… slightly dark, almost invisible. A minuscule thread that links me with my relatives and makes me search for something that could explain why we are so similar in our intimacy.
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