My object is old, abandoned, or semi-abandoned houses and huts, in rural areas. It’s not just architecture that I’m interested in, it’s how these spaces become the memory body, collective and personal. I’m researching the material remains of a life that has passed away: a facade that has fallen, gardens that have been planted, things that have been left behind, and the ceilings that have been snatched out. It’s an archaeology of the recent past.
Memory is a project on space at the border between existence and destruction, a place where none of these categories exist in pure form. These landscapes are neither idyllic nor catastrophic, and they are in a state of constant compromise. A person in these spaces is present indirectly — through footprints, infrastructure, and interference. I deliberately avoid event and drama, working with neutral light and distance to view what is happening as a system, not as an episode. As we walk our normal journey, we study old cages that keep a historical and personal memory. These images do not capture transformation as a process, but show the state where the house is virtually unrecoverable and brings back memories for the owners.
I say that an abandoned house is not the end of history, but its transition to a different, more complex state. It is not just ruins, but an active space for dialogue between culture and nature, past and present. I see in this process not only a tragedy of loss, but also a poetry of transformation, where human memory becomes part of an ecosystem, a «improvement» for new meanings.
