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This year I have been living in a "Borges reading season".  I am thus inclined to treat my images through the light of his dreamy fiction.

Borges writes: “When I was a child, I fervently worshiped the tiger... My childhood ended, and the tigers and my passion for them faded away, but they are still in my dreams... Then I think: this is a dream, a pure diversion of my will; and now that I have unlimited power, I am going to cause a tiger…”

I know that the dynamics of a series of images must verify the core of things through a marginal form of abstraction. There is no place for generalities, an already told idea must be reinstated as unique. Therefore, I review the collection of my pictures. I try to contrast the flowing face-geography of photographed people with the immobilized time of the empty landscapes. A difficult task indeed!

Borges ascertains: “Oh, what incompetence! Never can my dreams engender the wild animal  I long for. The tiger indeed appears, but stuffed or flimsy...”  

I'm pondering over it, feeling frightened…

Finally, I have taken my decision: I will fight against my tigers.

I present the result.


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