After my father’s death, as I approached the enormous archive of photographs and drawings produced by him throughout his life, I found a cardboard box containing cutouts of photographs of his fingers: 313 black and white handmade prints.
I don’t know much about my father’s history of those years, and it isn’t easy to imagine the purpose of this curious material. This discovery led me to reshape his body of work to restore a dialogue with him, bringing back his presence through his hands. I found myself working with countless fragments of the lost body, impossible to piece together to restore the body in its unity. And yet, a new type of unity emerged as I began to make various casts of my own hands: identical to his, the wax replicas allowed me to re-experience the sensation of his touch, embodied and multiplied through the growing presence of these inanimate objects. Moving between touch and vision, I gave life to a play, immersed in a timeless atmosphere that suggests an intimacy which – despite not being able to experience it directly – I could restore thanks to a collaboration between imagination and haptics, drawing from memory.
The work uses archival photography, performance, and sculpture to explore the themes of family, memory, and loss. It is a search and longing for identity. Identity distinguishes us from each other and makes us unique and peculiar from a biological, psychological, and cultural point of view. But what if we are more similar to each other than what we can imagine? What if our bond to whom we have lost is more substantial than we can imagine? Do the departed live within us, not only in our memories, but physically embedded and multiplied in the shape of our bodies?