I collect online old domestic photographs, anonymous moments which identify a concrete period and describes family celebrations, trips or any particular event. When I open the envelopes which contain these images, I hope to find some surprise printed on the back sides of the paper in the shape of names, dates or indecipherable notes. The legends of the Mirror maze offer ideas about what ten representative photographs of the Album project hide.
MIRROR MAZE
I walk to the grove when a thread of light reveals uprooted flowers. I continue. New secrets at the wooden and ropes circuit are waiting for me where we play. The chest of drawers is covered with documents, clothes and intimate objects which disappear by the spell of the ancient tapestry. The glasses reveal invisible sparks, dust crumbled in familiar memories. While the embers begin the meat ceremony I can escape from the machines nave, dominated by the stained aprons which has been hanged at the door of the metallic container. The alternative route offers a magma of tools into disuse, where the cushion filled cover the fallen sign while caresses the dry flora. It raises from the rocking chair all invoking a sardonically creature that surfaces from the darkness. The two little towns are separated by the silence of the crops. At the intermission, a rolling jalopy for a mantle of gravel is shown which didn't exist. The last sentinel of the station shows the juvenile promise, hidden under a table bleached by the last morning breath. The immersion into the Atlas lake is interrupted by the vibration of a sculpture that imprisons me. I want to unwrap the mystery of the principle and end. The smile of the transfigured face interrupts the rite.
I walk to the grove when a thread of light reveals uprooted flowers. I continue. New secrets at the wooden and ropes circuit are waiting for me where we play. The chest of drawers is covered with documents, clothes and intimate objects which disappear by the spell of the ancient tapestry. The glasses reveal invisible sparks, dust crumbled in familiar memories. While the embers begin the meat ceremony I can escape from the machines nave, dominated by the stained aprons which has been hanged at the door of the metallic container. The alternative route offers a magma of tools into disuse, where the cushion filled cover the fallen sign while caresses the dry flora. It raises from the rocking chair all invoking a sardonically creature that surfaces from the darkness. The two little towns are separated by the silence of the crops. At the intermission, a rolling jalopy for a mantle of gravel is shown which didn't exist. The last sentinel of the station shows the juvenile promise, hidden under a table bleached by the last morning breath. The immersion into the Atlas lake is interrupted by the vibration of a sculpture that imprisons me. I want to unwrap the mystery of the principle and end. The smile of the transfigured face interrupts the rite.
