We were born blind, unable to see.
We started our unconscious journey to find ourselves,
heading home, like ghosts of our lives.
A never-ending healing process to flee our fears.
Sacred things to protect us from our demons.
Cursed things to condemn us.
Simulacrum, parallel realities, portals containing all of our luck and misfortune.
How does a holy icon become mean?
How does a thing become sacred?
To imbue the inanimate with feelings,
to talk to people in our head who are not there.
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An inner unconscious journey through dreadful hallucinations and quiet dreams, connecting with something that is above us, floating towards the supernatural.
A parallel dimension where time, space, fear and hope blend into a sort of existential meaning.
An abandoned line turns into a space for reflection. Words and images are imprinted on the traditional funeral “souvenirs”, decorating an altar dedicated to the railway section suppressed between Torino Porta Milano and Stazione Dora. The void created by the interruption of a service and the consequent abandonment of the territory becomes an opportunity to talk about precariousness and loss, death and survival.
In collaboration with Edoardo Rubatto.
My father used to take pictures of my family with his camera.
After many years, during global pandemic, they enjoyed watching those pitcures and sharing them with us.
I spent a long time trying to extract details through a different lens, offering them a new meaning.
Through War Lens (War is the translation of my surname) explore endlessly our family’s archive making this ongoing quest a chance to keep my family close, to know a different self, so close to me and so distant as well.
