ENTRY DESCRIPTION
Space as a Feeling
Sometimes words can no longer do anything.
There remains silence.
Filled with failed words.
Washed up on the shores of our cracks.
I was told to keep Silent. So in the Silence I raised my Cry.
I would like to believe that in the end it is beauty that wins.

AUTHOR
After five years in immersion in a Kalaripayattu’s school in India, after having been an actress, dancer and yoga teacher, after giving birth, photography has always been a necessity to be in the world, to express it, to watch it , when the words are no more.

It must have started like this. The gaze like a radar, and the camera to collect the evidence. To try to see what didn't wanted to be seen. The years have passed. The gaze remained. There is no more camera. But a phone in the pocket. So the images pile up in the flesh, make the bricks of the little story.

And then some stories make their way out of the intimate. Can they resonate with the main one? 

To photograph is to walk, and to stop. Explore landscapes and faces. To photograph is to dig tombs, unearth secrets, seek presences in absence.

To photograph is to look at the shadow to see light. To photograph is to write in images. When the words are silent, and the image is heard. It's telling a story. Not always the one we think.

From the lands of the Gard to the Scandinavian lands, mysterious and wild lands, from the hollow of the forests to the hollow of childhood, from the moon to the earth, in the rain and in the wind, from one hand to a look, from the young girl to the woman, from death and life, from these whispers, these squeaks, what do we know of the story we receive, of the one we tell, real or unreal, past or present or future, what do we know. To photograph is to tell. And be silent.

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