Glendarragh, the Glen of the Oaks. It is there, 30 km south of Dublin, where I went searching for my roots. My late grandmother was Irish and had lived there for a few years. I owed her my passion for art, and it was quite naturally through photography that I immersed myself in her story.
The images, produced through several journeys, are about absence and memory. The intimate observation of my immediate surroundings offers a journey in a world fated to disappear. This movement back to the land explores the mutations of a life that transforms and renews itself in full simple slowness.
In this rural Ireland, life’s rhythm depends on the elements’ temper. The characters, who seem straight out of a tale, are natives or family members living in Glendarragh. The places are inhabited by strange objects. Interiors and landscapes all tell the memories of the place. The surrounding nature, savage and mystical, seems to hold life’s secrets.
The images are arranged so as to allow each spectator to invent her own story. My narration, just as our ever transforming memory, is continuously recomposed. A subjective puzzle of colours, sensations and emotions.