If I begin saying “I went outside to see how the light was reflected on things” What would that mean? The scrutiny of the words on something that we already take for granted gives the phrase a poetic leap. This is how, I feel, my photography makes its way through myself into the outer world. I’m the one who observes and collects, I’m the one that walks around looking for mirrors made out of sidewalks, walls, treets, light; mirrors that serve me as a getaway, a ladder I descend or climb up to my subconscious. My work is a song composed of all those mirrors.

It can be a black and white 4x5 inch sheet of film or the tinny sensor of an early 00´s digital camera, a cluster of digital data obtained by scanning a 3d object, sounds, and words that lick out of my fingers with burning and timid desire; those are the tools, or the lego blocks that little by little add up to tell the story of myself staring at the void. This is a photographic journal without coordinates in time, a broken poem about life. Finally I come to the realization that the only story I can tell is the story of the light that comes along with me.

My work is influenced by astronomy. The study of phenomena that we know (as of today) lies completely out of our reach, yet we are able to see and analyze. Photography is for me somewhat similar, it presents us something we know exists but we have been denied of its presence, and it is in that effort to re-embrace that lost reality where beauty lies. And that is what my work is trying to exploit. When I stare at a snow top mountain from the window of the car, I imagine myself there, in the remoteness, and that fascinates me; I know though that if I was actually there, that fascination would be lost, for it is that space, void of reality, between my eyes and the object, where…