The Colour of Ash
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Dates2025 - 2025
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Author
- Location Lucca, Italy
This series is a monochrome dream, a threshold opened in darkness. The images are crystallised in a timeless dimension. What emerges is a visual narrative that does not seek to explain, but to preserve a profound, intimate, irreducible emotional truth.
To enter this book is to cross a threshold between history and myth, where photography becomes a passage across time—an invitation to grasp the essence of what has been and to resist oblivion. It is not a historical reconstruction, but a narrative that privileges emotion: a gesture that allows the soul of things to emerge — subtle signs, intimate resonances, presences that elude us yet remain. Each Polaroid is a fissure in time, a light that endures even when everything seems to dissolve.
Each portrait is an enigma to be deciphered. Each gaze refers to other times and opens itself to multiple readings: stories that slip away from us yet deserve to be rediscovered. Not mere faces, but interpreters of forgotten histories, suspended between past and present, asking only to be observed and recognised.
The archival materials — fragments of newspapers, letters, documents — presented alongside the images and texts, are traces of lives suspended between reality and imagination. They help to reconstruct the context of the figures portrayed, amplify their resonance, and open onto a broader temporal and cultural depth. The black background is set against luminous white, like the intimacy of memory opposed to the grandeur of history.
Postcards and representations restore authentic landscapes, monuments, lived-in places: visual anchors that ground the vision in a concrete elsewhere, discreetly suggesting that this story truly happened. That this woman really walked those streets, even if time has tried to render her invisible.
Plastic both preserves and separates, like the thin line that divides memory from the void of a lost recollection. Fragments of what has been and of what might have been urge contemplation. Gold is not merely decoration, but a tangible sign of fragility transformed into strength: an open wound, exposed. The images do not conceal pain; they reveal it. Each name is an identity that resists, refusing to fade.
Time may erase contours and swallow days, but it cannot extinguish the stories that still ask to be heard. The memory of these women — fragile and luminous — shines once more and lives on in the gaze of those who look.