Ravages
2014 - 2020
Sizes: 80 x 120 cm
Every night, around midnight, I arrive at the theater and put my camera and tripod on the set. There are no more actors, no more audience. The stage is littered with debris; these are the remains of the theatrical play that has just been performed. I still perceive the echo of voices, the trace of gestures, the shadow of the plot. Everything has already taken place and yet "it" still pulsates. The directors give me fifteen minutes to take pictures, I must be quick. My eye finds its way through this chaos exploded into a myriad of disjointed, worn, broken - sometimes bloody - objects. I feel like a detective looking for invisible and hidden clues. I press the trigger before reconstituing the threads that connect the characters and the meaning of the play. What I must capture is this mystery: the after-scene played out and buried in the falling darkness.
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Hellish miracles
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Raincheck
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Stealthy Presence
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Mother Courage
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Abandoned Scene
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The impossible House
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Turn away
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Pedestal
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In the Heart of Untruth
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Ravages
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Winning Trio
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Subjectivity without Respite
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Failure & Success
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Carnival Outbreak
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Waiting without desire
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And they are still dancing
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Merrymakers
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The end of a killer's life
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Extreme Promise
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Post-Melancholia
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Mirage Bedroom
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Walk the Talk
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Rubbish Forest
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Magician
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The Imagined Future
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Laughing Fits and Cold Sweats
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The Graves Maid
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Blacklisted Museum
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Heavenly murders
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Games of Power
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Imminence
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Reversed Chimeras
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Her Home
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Resounding Cavalcade
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Between two Tempests
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Deliquescences
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Surveillance,60x90cm
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Forgotten mischief
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Audacity
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A las seis de la tarde
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Demantibulated Sadness
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Perched Vanities
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Scattered cries
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The Tragedy of this Story
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Charade,60x90cm
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Deep down in the shady Garden
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Ageless Scenery
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Last fight
Every night, around midnight, I arrive at the theater and put my camera and tripod on the set. There are no more actors, no more audience. The stage is littered with debris; these are the remains of the theatrical play that has just been performed. I still perceive the echo of voices, the trace of gestures, the shadow of the plot. Everything has already taken place and yet "it" still pulsates. The directors give me fifteen minutes to take pictures, I must be quick. My eye finds its way through this chaos exploded into a myriad of disjointed, worn, broken - sometimes bloody - objects. I feel like a detective looking for invisible and hidden clues. I press the trigger before reconstituing the threads that connect the characters and the meaning of the play. What I must capture is this mystery: the after-scene played out and buried in the falling darkness.