Landscape Materials

This book launched a provocation. The landscape is not something of which we can control the borders, and define unambiguously the context. I should radically reject the claim, all human, to rationalize the landscape, or to describe it, to own it, to set it aside. Everything stems from a journey that I do in California to retrace an imaginary made of pages torn from movies and video clips. I do on the strings of Leonard Cohen, trying in my own way to be free. Capturing clippings of sky, roads, buildings and sunburned cars. In this book the landscape becomes fractal, its meaning gets impalpable and slips like sand between my hands. It seems to make fun of those who watch. The images are fleeing from the page and perhaps by our own understanding. As if a book is no longer enough to contain them. The landscape is made of pieces of memory that slowly fade away. After all we are the landscape. It begins and ends with us. And maybe what’s left is a perfume. To give it a body I imagined that no photography is really indispensable. You will not find answers in this book, but the invitation to inhabit your questions.