RESIDENCY PROJECT / FABRICATED MEMORIES

During my Euroatla art residency in Lisbon in 2018, I came up with an idea of a 'fake' photo diary, short narratives with black and white images

that are not at all personal. The concept behind 'Fabricated memories' was to place myself in a life that never happened.

In the last decade I have been struggling with the reality of my homecoming after living abroad for quite a period.

I have been tackling the issues of lost identity after leaving and returning again, breaking my new bonds and coming back to the old.

Old place, old me, who already lived other lives and then came back to bushes like a boomerang.

Unable to identify with anything, longing for temporary homes, suddenly being stuck in the rut, accumulating new personal losses.
Coming to Lisbon was my salvation straw, irrational and emotional escape, place that I needed to restart myself.

I was born in Hospital de Bonecas, not far from the river. Mine was a happy childhood, with all the greens and blues I longed for.	I told her that I want to be filled with ocean water, some sand is fine but no algae please. She said that water will make me so good, make me feel so happy and salty at the same time. It was my prefered flavour. Sour and bitter also.
I would throw the pebbles in the water, breaking reflections, creating ripples. Sometimes I would fold myself into a small paper boat and sail away, always round and round, returning to the beginning.	My pony loved being by the ocean. He would play with seaguls and would take me places. I would feed him rosemary. He had seen many ships sail away to far away lands, returning to find oblivion.
Roots, always in the water, where there would sprout and stay like that until the glass turned green. Soil was too solid, too permanent.	Catch them and you can eat them all, they would say. I loved their scaly skin, silverish blue. Everything was about the sea, the ocean. I knew I would never live without it. Never moved away, never imagined anything else.

I was born in Hospital de Bonecas, not far from the river. Mine was a happy childhood, with all the greens and blues I longed for.

I told her that I want to be filled with ocean water, some sand is fine but no algae please. She said that water will make me so good, make me feel so happy and salty at the same time. It was my prefered flavour. Sour and bitter also.

I would throw the pebbles in the water, breaking reflections, creating ripples. Sometimes I would fold myself into a small paper boat and sail away, always round and round, returning to the beginning.

My pony loved being by the ocean. He would play with seaguls and would take me places. I would feed him rosemary. He had seen many ships sail away to far away lands, returning to find oblivion.

Roots, always in the water, where there would sprout and stay like that until the glass turned green. Soil was too solid, too permanent.

Catch them and you can eat them all, they would say. I loved their scaly skin, silverish blue. Everything was about the sea, the ocean. I knew I would never live without it. Never moved away, never imagined anything else.