Catalogue Exhibition │Millepiani
Posted on July 27 2023
..
..
ECHOES OF YESTERDAY
—
There's an invisible path we walk. A part of the path is lit by intermittent light. We walk the path backwards by jumping form one lit space to the next, but the light becomes dimmer. This is called memory. These pictures are my way to remember. They're paths I shared some time ago. This is their fading light. Like fireflies in the night, on the fields of better years.
- D. G.
—
There's an invisible path we walk. A part of the path is lit by intermittent light. We walk the path backwards by jumping form one lit space to the next, but the light becomes dimmer. This is called memory. These pictures are my way to remember. They're paths I shared some time ago. This is their fading light. Like fireflies in the night, on the fields of better years.
- D. G.
—
I was born in 1996 in a small town in southern Romania during the collapse of an old system. My work explores obscure interiors and hidden spaces, depicting a life caught between the desire for self-expression and the need for silence. The house, far from a sanctuary, embodied an inner conflict: it was a place of shelter and safety but also one of silence, control, and underlying fear.
- L. G.
—
I was born in 1996, at the margins of a small town in Southern Romania, in the wake of a crumbling system. Through images of obscure interiors, and concealed spaces, I wanted to depict a life caught between the desire for self-expression and the compulsion to stay safe in silence. Far from being a sanctuary, the house reflected an inner conflict: it was a place of shelter and silence, of control and fear.
- L. G.
—
My mother took care of my terminally ill sister full-time for 17 years. My sister suddenly died in one night. Now, after 17 years, my mother continues to live with the memories she kept from him, everywhere and at any time.
- G. Y.
—
My mother took care of my terminally ill sister full-time for 17 years. My sister suddenly died in one night. Now, after 17 years, my mother continues to live with the memories she kept from him, everywhere and at any time.
- G. Y.
—
Sam Evans’ photography bridges contemporary 35mm techniques with family archives, creating a dialogue between personal and collective memory. Inspired by their lineage of photographers, Evans uses analog methods to explore the intersection of reality and fiction. Their images delve into how memory shapes identity, revealing emotions and narratives that question the boundaries between history, imagination, and the present.
—
Sam Evans’ photography bridges contemporary 35mm techniques with family archives, creating a dialogue between personal and collective memory. Inspired by their lineage of photographers, Evans uses analog methods to explore the intersection of reality and fiction. Their images delve into how memory shapes identity, revealing emotions and narratives that question the boundaries between history, imagination, and the present.
.
—
—
—
Through these photographs I reflect on collective and personal memory, on how the past continues to live on in us through the places, images and feelings we carry with us, even if they become ghosts of yesterday.
- U. A.
—
Through these photographs I reflect on collective and personal memory, on how the past continues to live on in us through the places, images and feelings we carry with us, even if they become ghosts of yesterday.
- U. A.
—
A person can memorize up to 5,000 faces and between 20 and 100,000 words. Information fills the brain, but access to it is limited, and memories become distorted over time. Why does one remember the irrelevant details but forget the big picture ? What part of life is dissolving into oblivion? What is the hidden value of those individual things that a person chooses to remember – and how do they bring us closer to self?
- J. G.
—
Taken from Morvoren, which draws on childhood interest in local folklore to give poetic expression to the experience of growing in Cornwall, a place given over to tourism in summer while feeling eerily empty in winter. The landscape of giants, saints, and mermaids is combined with intimate memories of place to evoke a sense of native estrangement and imply an eerie social commentary on the drained state of the county.
- L. B.
—
This was once a field where children played and laughed, teams tackled each other. Now what?
- A. S.
—
In the ruins of The Burnt City lays a road, does it go forward or backward?
- A. S.
—
The delicate presence of a balloon animal, a fragile symbol of childhood surrounded by shadow, evokes themes central to the broader project, Plume: the fleeting nature of innocence and the fragility of moments we hold dear.
- J. F.
—
As a hand hovers over a tower of jenga blocks, a moment lingers suspended between stillness and potential transformation. The image invites reflection on the quiet fragility of what we build and the uncertainty of what comes next, echoing Plume's exploration of impermanence and possibility.
- J. F.
—
Life belongs to bonds, to roots, to words that we would not like to stop pronouncing and what will be saved will not be what we have protected but what we have changed. Precisely in this perspective of mutation the dialogic concept develops, becoming the emblem of a visual but at the same time philosophical opportunity of intrinsic existentiality, enunciating a meaning evolved in the sign and in the matrix.
- L. C.
—
This collection of images documents my journey as a first time mother through the experiences of breastfeeding and intense sleep deprivation, each image made uncomposed and unplanned on a disposable film camera before or during a nursing session. This year-long work addresses the mundane, unseen and gendered labor and gestures, the fast paced rate of change and demand to adapt in parenthood, and the maternal relationship with rest.
- M. C.
—
On the place where two rivers flow together, my ancestors' house once stood. I come to the river bank in an attempt to find a foothold in the present day through a connection with the white-framed house. It has absorbed my family's joy and sorrow. It remembered my grandfather's youth and my father's childhood. The house helps me connect with the environment, even though it was demolished decades ago.
- O. S.
.
—
These photo belong to the Monument[s] photography series. In this collection, I photographed the replicas of some of the most famous architectural buildings of Iran's past. Then I brought them to the same background and tried to make the buildings come alive with pixel-by-pixel manipulation and bring them into the contemporary atmosphere.
- M. M.
—
This series traces the afterlives of memory, how fragments of the past resurface in objects, gestures and places. The subjects inhabit a world shaped by myth and history, caught between presence and absence. Through moments of stillness and transformation, I'm asking what survives the passage of time, and what is left behind as echoes?.
- Y. BC
—
This series traces the afterlives of memory, how fragments of the past resurface in objects, gestures and places. The subjects inhabit a world shaped by myth and history, caught between presence and absence. Through moments of stillness and transformation, I'm asking what survives the passage of time, and what is left behind as echoes?.
- Y. BC
—
This series traces the afterlives of memory, how fragments of the past resurface in objects, gestures and places. The subjects inhabit a world shaped by myth and history, caught between presence and absence. Through moments of stillness and transformation, I'm asking what survives the passage of time, and what is left behind as echoes?.
- Y. BC
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Connect