Ink drops into the water. Transparency becomes black. Black absorbs light and heat. Black hides everything.
I turned 30 and was completely lost. I suddenly realized my own finiteness. I realized the fragility of life, youth and beauty. This thought, which now seems so obvious, came to me out of the blue.
My microcosm is changing in parallel with a dramatically changing macrocosm. I need to adapt to reality, but instead I’m trying to escape. Making art is a form of escapism. Through photography, I create my own universe. I transform my anxiety, fears, obsessions and shame into pictures.
The older I get, the faster time seems to go. The fear of death is the fear of the unknown. It’s impossible to imagine non-existence.
I make self-portraits because I am so often alone, and because I am the person I know best. Creation is the opposite of death, and each self-portrait is the answer to the question ‘Am I still alive?’