The garden gate is opened
Jorge Luis Borges
as easily as a turned page
questioned by a regular devotion
and once inside, our gazes
have no need to fix on objects
that already exist completely in memory.
On the lower slope of a small Portuguese valley stands a house I always return to. Next to an old church, an iron gate leads into a garden, and to my grandparents’ home. Once inside I can see all the details that make it special: the big orange tree, the cats peeking from the top of the patio door, my grandmother’s warm welcome. There is immense comfort in knowing everything rests exactly where it has always been – from the box of biscuits to the picture of a cruise ship on the wall.
This project is an attempt to perpetuate the peacefulness of my grandparents’ daily routine and to preserve the house as it is, as I want to remember it – capturing every detail for myself, as if afraid that over the years my memory might not be enough.
Shot on medium-format colour film.
