Echoes of Existence

‘Longing is the agony of the nearness of the distant.’

*Heidegger*

Viarigi, Piedmont, Italy, a half-abandoned village. Like so many communities in the Mediterranean region, and in Italy in particular, Viarigi is facing depopulation. Young people have left for the big cities, seeking work and a vibrant life. The villages are ageing, services disappear, and when residents can no longer live independently or pass away, their homes remain empty, like an abandoned shell on the beach. No one wants these houses anymore. What was once valuable to those who lived there has been left behind. Furniture, clothing, household items, photographs on the wall: it stays untouched. For a moment, we get the impression that the inhabitants left in a hurry,  cupboards still filled with food, clothes neatly hanging in the wardrobes, a newspaper from 1980 lying on the table. Life has come to a standstill, and in our gaze resonates an echo of what once was.

What remains of life when humans have vanished? Like an archaeologist with a camera, I gather the memories of this place. I imagine who lived here, what was thought, felt, spoken. In the abandoned rooms with cracks in the walls, with plants creeping in through the ceiling, with dust-covered furniture and dull mirrors, I try to capture what is slowly fading and will eventually disappear. The light playing through the folds of a curtain, a crack, sketches a story of what once existed in the room.

The images of the empty village can be seen as self-portraits. They mark the connection between my presence and the past. That I mirror myself in what remains of other people’s lives says everything about my own need not to be forgotten. By photographing the twilight of life, I reflect my existential urge to be seen and heard, to find recognition for my own existence.