Until recently, I had lived in cities all my life. But during my childhood my parents owned a house in the mountains where my father, country-born, would take me for walks in the woods to teach me about plants, mushrooms, wild animals.
When a few years ago I started noticing the unbidden recurrence of trees – often solitary, looming – in almost all of of my projects, I felt compelled to seek out forests once more.
The woodland of Selva Oscura is subjective and fleeting – a netherworld between reality, memory and dreams, where personal history and imagination collide and where a now adult gaze roams, looking for an epiphany or perhaps just clues, as it tries to find its way through the encroaching dark.
What started as a photographic process eventually became much more: in 2019 I finally left the city.
When a few years ago I started noticing the unbidden recurrence of trees – often solitary, looming – in almost all of of my projects, I felt compelled to seek out forests once more.
The woodland of Selva Oscura is subjective and fleeting – a netherworld between reality, memory and dreams, where personal history and imagination collide and where a now adult gaze roams, looking for an epiphany or perhaps just clues, as it tries to find its way through the encroaching dark.
What started as a photographic process eventually became much more: in 2019 I finally left the city.