The traces of existence are both clear and vague. Out of four hundred and eighty six photos that I took within six hours, I slowly recognize the faces of the permanent residents on this island, and on the other hand the residue of temporary residents: people who once lived here.
Rather than illustrations, the cut-up images are silent witness surrounded by multichannel sound composed of descriptions of what they hear during the years on the Rock in memoirs, interviews and fictions. As I turned the pages, It made me think of the depth of images and how the logic of montage could be changing all the time. It’s a leftover of all the previous owners who cut away areas that they need, brought me into reading experience among ruins.
