What happens to our memory when we remember someone we have loved?
Memory sometimes forgets to remember to forget.
Working on contrasting emotions, which are reflected on memory as two activities in conflict with each other: the removal, not always conscious, of the darkest moments and the illumination of those still imprinted, senza memoria, senza sentimento, goes beyond the mere photographic collection, also relying on visual and conceptual art, to try to make understandable what it is, an extremely subjective and therefore dangerously foggy experience.
I achieved my very first goal thanks to the search for a language capable of visually representing my memory, a language that concerns the printing technique used for the development of the shots. Drawing from my photographic archive, I relied on the Transfer technique, which consists in transferring pigments from one surface to another. A peculiar feature of the procedure is its imperfect effectiveness, the high error rate in the transfer of the image, which can lead to the random loss of portions of it. The pages alternate moments of total despair, represented by total darkness where the removal has made a clean sweep, with others so clear as to revive the emotion of that trace of memory.
Finally, a possible answer: once you have forgotten, there is no longer any way to put order, neither for the external eye nor for those who experience that removal firsthand. It is the final victory of the form over the content, of the language over what it wants to explain, but it is also a victory that has the aftertaste of a defeat, because we could enjoy it as long as there is time to remember it.
