“Some of these days, you’ll miss me honey” is a constellation of places, feelings and frames succeeding like a stream of consciousness, where images developed an intimate dialogue with myself which I started writing more than 10 years ago. 

I felt the need to make this project to rewrite the first part of my life, to be able to give it a meaning, fixing broken bones and producing a new reality of being as a kind of catharsis. 

It’s also a letter to my childhood self, when I didn’t know what to do with all those feelings and I was constantly overwhelmed by them. The same self was experiencing nostalgia for the past and melancholy for the future all the time. During that period there has always been a deafening silence in the back, like a white noise humming, that may be perceived looking at an industrial landscape, so fascinating and disturbing at the same time. 

These images embrace years when I felt as a spectator of my own life and I learnt to look outside through photography shedding any sense of guilt. There was not any rational reason why I felt so estranged from my family and my hometown, but painting at first and then photographing helped me to get through that void.

I did not know what it meant to feel belonged to something or someone and photography was my bridge to establish a connection with my surrounding. Photography let me disappear into that framed space, where I found myself. While I shoot, I felt like I existed. 

Like poetry, the photographic medium picks up details from the present and connects them with distant facts and places adding its own interpretation. In this series different layers interwine blending memories, thoughts, private spaces, painting and photography references together with Antonioni’s Red Desert frames along. The title is another mention taken from Sartre’s book Nausea, which was crucial to my growth. This book led me to ascribe words to what I had been experiencing for so long. 

This work is about photography and why I started. It’s also about re-appropriating familiar spaces I used to perceive for so long as uncanny. It’s also about the upside-down perception of urban landscapes, without any identity, that I feel as incredibly close as intimate rooms soaked in the inability to communicate one’s discomfort.