UMA FLOR DO LADO

My wedding album – and I dare to think that of many other people as well – accompanies me at every stage of life. I carry it with me physically and symbolically. He moved with us to another state and, consequently, to another city; passed by different houses; He was close to all the transformations in the couple's lives. Sometimes on the TV stand, sometimes on the office shelf, then in the bedroom closet or in the dresser drawer. Your changeable address does not prevent me from accessing you. There is always a way to revisit that great day, to gather new stories, to rekindle some embers and to reflect on the transformations within us.
Life is made up of many things, especially rites. They indicate some sharp turn that leads somewhere else. I entered the steep road in search of desire. More than that: for your achievement. In how many ways can a wish come true? What is its shape? On the road I saw A flower next door and, with it, I gathered the images from this album alive both in me and in its own pages, whose photographs duplicated and overlapped over time. The parchment paper pages, once divisions between one photo and another, became themselves – out of pure desire – a mixture between the previous and subsequent images. Without borders, the album now shows that it is more than a set of records of ritualistic moments, it is the experience of memory itself, alive, moving, greasy.
No photograph stands alone in telling a story, celebrating a moment, marking an event. The spectral images of this marital union, shaped by desire, carry the feminine soul of a bride who does not want to disappear. I returned the album to the box in the trunk. I'll be back any day.