Epitome (working title)

At first, in 2020, it started as some kind of exploration of maleness through the poetic nature of photography. Well it started way before that. Maybe a decade ago. But 2020 marks the first time I started not to count on clinically clean lab printing. I started to print my own work the way I want it. This time photography finally came full circle for me. In 2022, interrupted by a war, I still go through my film archives unearthing personal gems. I equipped my tiny bathroom(that now probably is the safest place in my apartment) as a darkroom for hand printing. During the long air raid sirens I print the pictures I took recently as well as pictures from years ago. Sometimes the sound of a distant explosion is heard under the red safelight. Seems to me this tight darkroom is a place of escapism of a wartime reality. In addition to that ‘maleness’ that I was studying and depicting first, other layers began to appear naturally. Testing the exposure for a clean final print sometimes ends up being the last stage of the process. So the «final» print may never really come to light. Once I ran out of paper fixer. I used it again and again till it was exhausted. Probably these toned test strips are on par with how today feels like — a bit chaotic, torn apart and very fragile. But at the same time subtle and quiet too. Could I make today something that does not refer to a war? I doubt it. Bruised visibly or invisibly, most of the places and people here were somehow touched by a war. Some people were displaced once or even twice or lived under the occupation. Others now serve in the armed forces. The destiny of others is unknown. From a personal visual diary at the beginning, ‘Epitome’ gradually became a loosely narrated exploration of the notions of belonging to a place in a wake of mass displacement and chaos. For me personally it’s an epitome of leaving, longing, fragility and doubt. But also of love and hope.