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I Cried First You Followed.
2012 _ 2018
 






Man crossing a bridge.
August 2018
River portion 1 | 2 
August 2018 
Rocks and Forests 
June 2012 August 2018 


Within the photographer personal experiences, I Cried First You followed floats around the presence of loss in photography's perspective and searches the influence of grief in the activity of fixing a suspended moment.

Loss is a multi _ layered reality where oneself must negotiate memories, within which the lost other is still very much alive and present; where negotiation often leads to the replacing of an actual absence with an imaginary presence, through the intensity and stubbornness of investment and attachment to the lost object.

If there is a historical cliché upon the force of creative production and the process of making, it lays into the poetic quotation of the past, distinctly when floating around loss, as a romanticised, passive, sentimental state of being.

But grief is rather an activity and a laboured process of the self in order to survive, and photography, often more than the others arts, has always had a fundamental part in the internalisation of the memory, where the suspended moment, sight, perception and the photographic body of work collapse and undo one another.
In her essay, Susan Sontag unfolds the differences between photography and the other arts: “ while a painting or a prose can never be other than a narrowly selective interpretation, a photograph can be treated as a narrowly selective transparency. Although photography is most concerned with mirroring reality, it remains a form of art despite its veracity, by not being an exception to the imperatives of taste and conscience.

Its connection to mourning remains interpretative of the self, even when loss is one of the most experienced activity within society. A work of art may function as an undoing and reconstructing of temporal status, in which memory is not introjected and consumed, but reworked, projected and returned: the last foothold for perpetuating questions which remains forever unanswered, the ultimate enigma of the lost other.

This open endedness without resolution or solution, without knowingness definite ending, is one of the mourning’s most difficult aspects, echoing an inherent nature of creative practice.




                                                                                              

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

Loss, from a creative constructive perspective, is rather the solution to the question of desire, it celebrates and require the object’s absence; its interminable sorrow, its eternal, unfulfillable desire is the fuel of this mental labour of grief that implies a productive outcome _ the substitution of a new object for the lost object preceding it: photographies.

At once both inside and outside the melancholic object, the lost object, the beloved, this unspeakable grief that is hidden away within this silent and secret internal enclosure is now untouchable. 

The monochrome series I Cried First You followed is the very personal journey of the photographer through mourning, where the relationship to the work is linked to an internal, emotional state of melancholia. The grayscale plays an essential role and attempts to offer a visual mirroring of the balance between the darkness of depression and the light of creativity. The photographic content remains connected to the past suspended moment, and function as the X ray of her emotional and psychological sphere in that timeframe.

“ reading on a monochrome print how an emotional state can be both dangerous and privileged is fascinating, allowing and enabling through creativity and still pontentially capable of turning into a demolishing force, one of the most consistent threat my generation has to face today. ”



ref. “ Mourning and Melancholia  by Sigmund Freud, “ Camera Lucida  by Roland Barthes and  “ On Photography   by Susan Sontag.