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The all too personal mournings and losses eventually fall into minor ideas or perhaps into something else entirely: a quiet persistence, a soft residue. They silently irritate, showing all the life that has passed because of time, consolation lost in the endgame, innocence, or what you may call naivety.
This book is not about innocence, but about the mourning of it, or perhaps the never-ending search for it, how it slips away and how we try, tenderly, to piece it back together. The photographs come from wandering, from looking at the in-betweens, the light, the traces of something just passed or about to arrive.
Images have a memory mostly particular to those who take a close look. To know these memories is to know, more or less, all the hope that something soft can be rebuilt, even after it’s been taken apart too many times. They don’t aim to show the thing itself, but the suggestion of it, the meaning left open, fragile, something the viewer must find in their own way.
Published by ZONE
Hardcover
148 pages
150 x 210 mm
