Persistency of Death (Desire of Memory)
I use small photographs from my family album which I slowly scrape with a knife. I dig into them layer by layer towards the illusion of understanding my desire for these people, my desire for their memories and my memory of them, and ultimately towards the illusion of understanding death, or their death maybe. It is a continuous, painful erosion until there is no more image, no person or landscape, no subject, no photographer. Only, always, stubbornly persistent death.