The Wind Is Proud

I have a recurring dream in which I travel back in time. Transported back to my childhood, I see my grandmother Paulette’s house again—she is now 91 years old and has Alzheimer’s disease.

I’m with her—my mother and my sisters—in her lush, fertile garden, having coffee, and I have my camera in my hands. Coming from the future, I realize that this moment is fragile and fleeting. Overcome by a sense of anxiety, I photograph every corner of it.

It is impossible to go back in time, and it was driven by this sense of urgency to preserve the past that I began this photographic series. Several chapters were created: during our final harvest of wild blackberries, then during my grandmother’s last meal at her home, and finally during moments spent later in her home without her.

The series, consisting of portraits and close-ups, explores the passage of time and the immaterial nature of memory, particularly when it is impaired by a neurodegenerative disease.

A tree standing in front of the family home becomes a constant witness to both the life and the absence of life in that place.

Echoing my film photographs, I chose to incorporate family archives, conceived as fragments of memory. The collection itself becomes the key element in preserving this legacy.