Caught into the Binding

Underpaper Breath

Janus’ Daughter

Blood Rose

Into Thin Hair

Princess of Coincidence

Behind My Back

You Know Me So Well

High Noon

Self Confession

My Past is Blank

You, Bitch!

Type Setter

Paper doesn’t come from a tree. It is a tree, or at least it was, before being crushed into a pulp, then bleached and pressed and mixed and steamed and rolled into a large sheet. Verticality reduced to Flatland, really. A far-reaching event takes place here, on this surface, and precisely when the tree’s thirsty fibers absorb the fresh ink, whose main ingredient is of botanic origin. The Birth of Information, in printed form, happens for a chemical meeting of plants. This probably explains the word Culture: the learning process is based on cultivation.

This new series of Photography Photographed can be seen as a temporal double-deck, a time sandwich where the picture is shot twice: then and now. I played with the magazine, showing its geologic thickness, the rolled page, the binding. The result is refreshing, as if paper could have a second chance, a resurfacing of time in which new meanings comes to life. I flip a page and two beautiful women casually meet, look at each others, fight with their eyes (‘You,Bitch!’). I have also been working with paper’s transparency because there are some unpredictable, and quite ironic, combinations: in ‘High Noon’, for instance, a Cartier watch appears behind two cowgirls who seems ready for a duel. In ‘Princess of Coincidence’  the model gracefully wears a far too big necklace on her face.There are some reflections on the Self, like in ‘Janus’ Daughter’ or ‘Self Confession’ where multiple images of the same person become multiple personality representing our conflicts. ‘You Know Me So Well’ is a page reflected on my studio’s window. My favorite is probably the first of this series: ‘Caught into the Binding’. The bride seems really desperate: the best day of her life ruined by this stupid accident. Who could have imagined that, leaving the magazine, she was trapped like a silver fox into the folding page? Is a Prince ever going to rescue this innocent beauty before somebody, closing the open issue, is going to squash her between the pages of Vogue?



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