From the series “Family portraits”; oil and pencil on canvas; 50 x 40 cm.
I suppose that every family, as well as mine, owns his proper baggage of photographic memories, kept in an old cabinet somewhere in the house. In that place are kept the stories of the whole family, the memories of grandparents, the marriage of the parents, the childhood period, all the summer holidays, and countless other occasions to remember.
Their appeal lies in the irregularities, in the imperfections, in the grains of dust that soiled the film, in the overexposure burning the edges and merging all the objects in an indistinct white light, in the color fading due to the passage of time. I like to think that the paper possesses its own selective memory, which unveils some elements of the image while hides or removes others, staining only parts of the scene, while the rest is left in the second floor, in black and white. Or I like to think that the fading paper misses parts of that memory, and sometimes what remains seems not to be the most important thing.