When my father died, I started to look for images.. of my father of us, but I discovered that i almost had no picture. Me as a photographic artist, discovering no memories in pictures.. Why did we've lost our memories in the past by having no pictures? What is the power of a picture, what is the power of an image, what is the power of a photograph? I only could find this old polaroid. It was made in 1980. There is bad lightning, dark shadows, just discovering silhouettes of me, my father and a little uncle of mine, who was even younger than me.. Taking in the mountains of the RIF in Morocco... The memory is gone, just like the polaroid. I try to restore this image in memory and in pixels...
“one memory”
“one memory”
