Experimenting with photography, the ultimate medium of time, is always for me a deep dive into my questions about time.
Deliquescence addresses the concept of disappearance, memory, and forgetfulness.

Years ago, my art teacher entrusted me with a treasure: a box containing portraits of anonymous people, likely taken in a photo studio, and left one day by an unknown person in the classroom of the Parisian middle school where she taught in the 1980s.
188 faces that have haunted me for a long time. A box I would occasionally open, flipping through the faces one by one, always wondering: Who were they? What were their names? What were their dramas, their joys, and their secrets? Does anyone, anywhere, remember them?

How can we resist the erasure of time?

Deliquescence evokes the disappearance of being, questioning our relationship with memory and the sacredness we attribute to remembrance.

Studying religious art has been an inspiring exploration for me. How do the sacred and the precious manage to manifest in an image or an object? As an atheist, this question is shrouded in mystery for me. Observing illuminated manuscripts, icons, Byzantine painting, reliquaries, and encolpia in both their aesthetic and spiritual dimensions, along with reading about these subjects, led me to reflect on photography's ability, through its potential to transport and revive the past, the "this-has-been," to bestow a sacred dimension -profane yet intimate- on personal memory.

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