The Absent State

The contact sheet without any mediator takes us directly to the format of the contact print. This contact print leads us to the subject of the picture. There are eight square photographs of an empty bed and one black square on this sheet. The contact sheet is not complete. Normally, there should be four rows of negatives. One row is missing. Absence seems to be the main theme of this picture — or these pictures. Is it one photograph or several? I slip between this singular and plural, and the contact sheet makes this slipping even stronger. The empty bed’s quietness makes the present moment of the picture absent. Both the contact sheet and the bed belong to the photographer’s private space, moving from quiet privacy to public view. But does the empty bed want to say something? Maybe the photographs are placed together so a story can be told. But the storytellers are quiet. One is the subtle movement of the camera; another is the gentle twist of the sheet and pillow. That movement seems to softly whisper about this twist. The rest of the story must be created by the viewer’s eyes and mind.

From the corners of the photographs, darkness seems to crawl into the bed — and in the end, suddenly takes over the whole frame, becoming the ninth picture. It’s as if the dark edges of the film swallow the white part of the image.

In this absent state, a strange gaze appears.