Ananké Asseff

2009 - 2011

The wind has no face. Which menace is worse – the one that exists, or the one that we imagine? Or, perhaps even worse: the one they make us believe exists? A fear of the wind is more elusive than the wind itself: it slips through your fingers but also between your thoughts, and yet it is present. It takes shape in monstrous forms amidst fears in the face of uncertainty (at times, everything is uncertain), in changes and shifts, in dreams and vigil, imagination and news warning of the presence of evil, all the time, insistently repeated by the media. It is a constructed, perhaps invented fear, a lack of safety that moves us, and anguishes in the face of the unknown. There are too many signs circulating, a multiplication of contradictory messages that bring up doubts regarding reality and fiction. To hide would seem to be a child’s way of escaping: to hide yourself under a blanket in the face of a ghostly threat.

Ananké embodies these in her shifts, but she goes further, even though they come back to her in the very choice of distancing herself from them, of avoiding focusing attention on her body in order to show the situations it goes through. / It is a certain approach to what is felt. It is about representing – in a question regarding how to do so – changes, what it is that will happen, externally and internally, in life or in films; in the natural disasters scattered all over the world and the ones that disaster films unleash upon on us by way of special effects. It is a game between illusion, fantasy and construction.

To what extent does the world that changes modify us? To what extent do the things we change modify us? Some answers may be in the works or in some of the recurring themes, such as “resist”. This time, shedding light on these situations is also a way of showing and hiding, as a record of what is to come, of the unexpected. Nevertheless, I ask myself: how much of this is invented? How much of a real threat is there? I think about how much real and imagined pain has been suffered, how much existing and lost pain. Ananké’s questions, intuitions, and way of sliding from one theme to another, all bear the marks of a small, chilling world that watches over us.

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  • ¿A que distancia hay que estar de la tierra?
    Fotografia directa. intervencion con pintura sobre estructura añosa encontrada.

  • El secreto tenía que develarse
    Fotografia directa

  • Sin título (Corrimientos )
    FOTOGRAFIA directa.

  • No esta hecho para sufrir
    Fotografia directa
    120 x 120cm

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