¨I realize that I am fascinated by photos in the same way I’ve been fascinated, since childhood, by blood, semen and urine stains on sheets, or old mattresses, discarded on pavements; by the stains of wine or food embedded in the wood of sideboards, the stains of coffee or greasy fingers on old letters – the most material and organic kinds of stains.¨
RED SHAWL, 12 or 20 APRIL
¨I don´t know how to use the language of feelings while ´believing´it. When I try, it seems fake to me. I only know the language of things, of materials traces, visiable evidence. (Although I never stop trying to transmute it into words and ideas.) I wonder if contemplating and describing our photos is not a way of proving to myself that his love exists, and in the face of the evidence, the material proof they embody, of dodging the question for which I see no anser, ´Does he love me?´¨
- BRUSSEL, HÔTEL DES ÉCRINS,
ROOM 125, 6 OCTOBER