An Insufficient Response

In my work, and more specifically so in this one, "An Insufficient Response" - a title that comes from Luigi Ghirri's famous Aperture text, Kodachrome -, I engage with ambiguity. I position my photographs in a liminal state, an anthropological concept that refers to an intermediate phase or condition in a given rite of passage. My intention is that the photographs become a receptacle in which people deposit their narratives. In that sense, they are transformed into a habitable space, where emotional statuses, memories, and social and cultural values come into play, defining one’s interpretation of the image. In other words, I make incomplete photographs. My strategy for this latest work is to expand my artistic practice by including fictional texts, adding new layers of meaning and complexity. I intend to publish it as a photobook. For the photobook , I have two options that are still not quite definite: either publish four different versions of the book, with the same set of photographs, but four different short stories; or instead to bring together four different books, with four different texts (loosely related to one another, such as a similar story from different narrative viewpoints) and bind them in a case together. The choice will be taken according to the one that generates a stronger experience of mystery for the reader. One of the texts is as follows: "You know, this is actually the first time I have ever sat on one of these couches. I never imagined they were so comfortable. Maybe there’s a purpose in all of it, right? This fabric. It reminds me of the overcoat that I once had and was wearing on that night that I told you about. Back then, I couldn't believe what had happened. The odds and the circumstances were so unlikely, and I wish there was some way I could have acted differently. I remember perfectly when I had the chance to do it. But I didn't. It doesn't matter now, what is done is done. During the events, even the sharpest vision wouldn’t allow me to see or think clearly, I assure you. A windy, windy day. A kind of smoke, or dust, all over my face. It felt like the end of time. But let me go back for a moment. It all started with the annoying, repetitive noise of the security guard fiddling with his keys. The whispering, followed by those screeching sounds got me started. I still thought, you know, “I’ll smile” and maybe it will get noticed and will stop. It didn’t work."