I  must have been about ten years… 

The garden of our house opened onto the countrysise. 

I used to go off along the neighboring steams, equipped with a small fishing rod and a small wicker full of hope. 

  

In the shade of trees, a feew sunbeams drew strange shapes on the dark water and only suggested underwater life and curious landscape… 

I  stayed for hours with the rod in my hand, trying to imagine what i could not observe… 

I used to come home in late afternoon, without any of the tiny fishes that populated these streams, but with my head full of strange images… 

  

The photographs i present are mostly like the water streams of my childhood ; I like to leave in the blackness of ink something out of a dream.. 

  

The question of the relationship between them does not arise… They do not reflect simple visual experiences, but strive to reveal something of the unspeaklable ; they build an expectation… 

Black color just keeps pure light from reality,"this treasure of rays"  by Barthes, who said that they keep reaching us after the disappearance of the photographed subject. 

  

To me, photography is a metaphor that suggests a way to see and understand the world. Stop trying to some reality as a place gives free rein to imagination. 

  

How  strange they are, these places that challenge us and confront us. 

A suspended universe, fragile and fleeting field… 

  

Image is full of the density of time and place, but at the same time it cast another universe. A floating dream…