Maria, Sheep, Dogs, and Rotten Oranges

Compressed between concrete and tulle, this series documents a timeless limbo. Amidst rotting oranges and guarding dogs, Maria stands as an uneasy witness to the collision of decay and elegance. An experiment in reality on the brink of modernity.

The space is abandoned, the fruit is rotting, the borders are drawn. Maria stands amidst all this entropy, the protagonist of a story to which she does not belong.

This series is not a modern fairy tale; it is an experiment in reality, compressed between concrete and tulle. It documents a timeless limbo, stuck between the grey of concrete and the blue of tulle, on the brink of a promised modernity. Whether Maria has fled a celebration in her evening gown, or is trapped in a scene long since abandoned, remains ambiguous.

The rotting oranges on the ground mark the irreversible flow of time, while the dogs behind the wire fences signify an uncanny border. Here, nature and the city, human and animal, splendor and destruction do not complement one another; they collide. The series strips the "gazed-upon" woman of her status as an aesthetic object, transforming her into an uneasy witness of this harshly lit, dystopian landscape on the periphery.

What remains, in that undefined void—neither fully rural nor urban—is the silent tension between decay and elegance.