Ladies are Roses

Property of the New York Library Picture Collection

Left Missing

The picture on the left, might be missing but also the original albums these black pages came from, the order in which they once were, and the context , the full context, of who are these people, how are they related and where are they coming from. In some way left missing is the left overs of other left overs. For a while now I’ve being collecting found footage, discarded images that once belonged to family archives, and repurpose them giving them a new meaning and a place in my own work. Many of the black album pages are useless in a way if not taken apart and the images used separately. I was discouraged from breaking them apart but also didn’t know exactly what to do with them, so they were left aside. Now that they have accumulated into a critical mass I started seeing how I can insert myself into this very specific, already made, compositions of someone else’s history. The images that didn’t make it through time, fell apart and got lost and are now missing from the black album pages essentially left the door open for me to play off of these partial compositions. Furthermore, the cut out text strips that once made a clear sense in the context of a certain family but now these fragmented pieces of discontinued memories make a new sense in a photo fantasmic context. left missing chains together unrelated family album pages to tell, internationally, a partial photographic story that can never


Anonymous Family

Dead Water

The Dead Sea is a salt lake with no way out. Surrounding this unique lake grew an industry of pleasure, beauty, healing and myth. People come from all over the world to experience the wonder of the Dead Sea. Kibuts Kalia is one of many small cooperative settlements, hotels and resorts, along the sea that have tried to form a haven from the desert’s abyss. Kalia was well known for their water amusement park, the Atraktzia (attraction – word that was borrowed from English), as an oasis of sweet water in the sea of death. Many Israeli’s share memories of Atraktzia as part of their tradition of family vacations and weekends. I have never had the chance of experiencing Kalia’s Atraktzia myself, and yet I grew up knowing of a miraculous fantastic oasis in the middle of nowhere. Years after, In one of my trips down south I had my first encounter with Atraktzia. It was hot, dry and colorless, a pale refection of its past glory. Te once amazing water park stood empty, abandon and waterless. Afer doing some research it came to my knowledge that in the year 2000 the water park was shutdown due to the politic tension in the area as well as financial and legal problems. Since then, for 13 years, it stands empty. Te stories of others , on which i based my memories , of the place I have never visited , were far from the place I could have now see for myself. And yet, I still feel nostalgic in regards to the fall of the attractions from its glory; not owning even one true memory of Atraktzia haven’t prevented me from yearning its past. As I photographed the park it became smaller, paler and lifeless. In this body of work I do not try to recreate the park, or resurrect it, but document a place that so many people had strong feeling to, as children, and try and understand that glorious period that me myself had never got to experience.

Ha'asor 12

Color Nights

I walked at night with my camera through my old childhood neighborhood. Although it wasn’t where my home was, it was where my grandparents lived. It is a small neighborhood with old-fashioned Israeli buildings in a desert city of Maal’e Adumim. I call it my childhood neighborhood because I spent many days playing and hiding between these buildings. I came back to the neighborhood as a young adult, looking to find all those memories, but they were long gone. I wasn’t able to remember much and everything felt different from this new perspective. It no longer felt like a large maze but instead it felt small and I could see all the path’s clearly. I only felt comfortable walking around and exploring the place at night, when it was free of people, silent and it was just the streets and I. Than I I was able to reconnect with this place by observing the stillness of the buildings following the light spots around the neighborhood and listening to the crickets. In the loneliness of the the night and it’s emptiness I felt as if I found my memories. There are not specific moments recreated here, but a feeling of home, of a place I understand even if I see it differently now than I did as a child. This place will always be where my Grandfather, Pop, was. He is this light I am looking for, he is my childhood neighborhood.