ALICE IS HERE

When a child is born a lot of people are born with it: a mom, a dad, two grandfathers, two grandmothers and so on. A baby gives birth to new roles, so that families become larger.

Alice was born on October 17th 2007. Alice died on October 17th 2007. Actually, my granddaughter is not dead, now she is 9 years old and me being an aunt stops that day, I don't see my niece since then. Why? Because there are nodes that do not untie, because, it's funny, but there is nothing that puts in jeopardy relationships like family.
On October 17th 2007 an aunt was born and that would be me. The problem is that while Alice was growing, sticking her teeth, saying the first words, crawling, walking ... I was not there. I was not there when she learned to ride a bike, I was not there when she was waiting her turn on the swing and cried for not selling it to the child in the queue, I was not there when she blew out the candles of a new year or when snorting or beating the feet.

Alice is now 9 years old, she goes to school, learns new things, goes to the movies, eats ice cream, peels one knee, runs, does all those things that we do imagine for a child of her age.
Alice is now 9 years old and she has a father I never knew, I often wonder what they do together, what they say sitting at the table or in bed, what's her fairy tale good night. What my brother invents to make her smile or to comfort her when she is sad.
Photography has become the perfect tool to represent the lack, the pain and the hope, not so much that I can build a relationship with a person who does not know of my existence, but that she, Alice, will one day understand the reasons of events tumultuous as separations and seek answers, to question truths that have become absolute.
These photographs are an attempt to build up an imaginary and imaginative portrait of a relationship, they feature my imagination that takes off and tells a memory that is not there.