The point of no return

The point of no return. The moment after which the path back to the past disappears completely.

The point of no return. The moment after which the path back to the past disappears completely. For me, this point was the photographs of the house where I grew up, sent to me after my father's death. The house had sunk into oblivion, having lost its former belonging. For the first time, I felt like an outside observer.

This project wasn't born by chance; having encountered someone else's loss, I felt a familiar emptiness and helplessness. Having traveled to the Far North, to the villages of Vorkuta, to find a house that had already passed its point of no return, I found entire worlds.

I climbed into abandoned apartments, collecting the remnants of someone else's life, slowly decomposing in the damp and cold. I documented houses, streets, and found objects, understanding that they had once belonged to someone.

An ongoing ritual, impossible for me in my own home. By carefully composing them, I attempt to give these objects what I couldn't give to my own: dignity in care, preservation in photographs.

This gesture marks a farewell to the place that was my home. I don't simply bear witness to its decay; I enter into a silent dialogue with it, becoming the guardian of these ghostly fragments.