Hello . I make pictures
Vienna spoils us with countless fonts the shops, cafes, and restaurants display to invite us in. They convey moods, messages, and meanings. Letters and fonts are so common that we tend to overlook them. We rarely think of their creators, let alone how outstanding the evolution and invention of writing systems are for humankind:
The ability to store and transfer information across generations is crucial to the maintenance of our culture. In A Faulmann File I work with this tension between the past, present, and future which, in essence, occur simultaneously in my images. Yet, their simultaneity is highly intangible; it’s a hazy notion or feeling at best like time as an experience itself.
History proves how letters will most likely stand the test of time, whereas we as individuals will fade into oblivion. Our bodily presence remains ephemeral. Only our stories may outlive us.
This project’s name refers to Mr. Carl Faulmann and his legacy.
Initially, the Oh Vienna! project was both a personal challenge to shoot a picture a day for a year and to honor Vienna, my second great love and chosen gorgeous home.
After one year had passed, I continued to photograph. The project shifted into “free writing with pictures” in search of my voice as a photographer.
Then it turned into a “window into a world” for my dying mother. Ever since my mother died in 2016, this project has been on hold. Perhaps it will become a place where love still can go to.
In the 19th century, paranormal investigators would capture ghosts of ancestors and loved ones photographically. We do think we know better today, but a camera can indeed see more than our eyes. Fast movement like the flapping of a hummingbird’s wings for instance, can be frozen by a camera. Or a long exposure of the starry sky at night shows time in the shape of lines the stars leave behind.
How can we know what is real if there are things we can only see with a tool? What more is there in our world to reveal when even time, a fairly abstract value, can become visible by photographing it?
With “Remember Me” I reflect on these questions as well as on memory and even more so on our (in)ability to remember. Both are in constant flux like the urban environments we live in and our random daily encounters.
Photography zine . A6/A3
B/W digital print . 100g Munken Premium Cream . 16 pages
Numbered and signed limited edition of 10
I photograph into and out of public transportation with little control over who is being framed. A technique that both mirrors and replicates the paradox that the harder we try to rebuild a face of a passed away loved one in our memory, the less we succeed and in order to recall their face, to follow their unspoken request “remember me!”, we have to let go. We have to forget to remember.
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