In quantum physics entanglement describes the phenomenon that invisibly binds two distant particles, in such a strong way that when one is stimulated the other, although distant, is perturbed accordingly. Entanglement literally means “tangle” and describes the hidden link between two objects in space and time. This phenomenon seems to speak about the nature of that space – familiar and mysterious – that is our memory: a space in which, against all logic, images of different times and spaces manage to coexist, in an interweaving of impulses that, although atomic, are made of matter that travels in the form of mental images.
The images are therefore objects that we collect, even without awareness, that dialogue at a level imperceptible to us in the form of symbols and associations creating an invisible thread: our history. Entering this dark and fragile place, on the edge of oneiricity, where one image leads to another in a potentially infinite game of mirrors and labyrinths, is a painful and solitary process. It reveals how the images of the past can be fallacious, distorted, modified by the disturbance of an image of the present in the instant in which we think it and vice versa. To understand who we are means to chase the perhaps impossible and interminable attempt to unravel (“disentangle”) the threads that have been woven through our images.
The images of this project are only part of one of the countless possible journeys in search of what I lost of my mother when depression swallowed her and took me with her. It speaks of detachment, of the pain of growing up, of trying to get to where it all began or ends and in this way, perhaps, save myself, reborn, wake up from nightmares.