One day I found a box in the closet, forgotten by everyone, with my father’s photo film archive in it – and from that moment my dialogue with the one who is no longer there began.
My dad passed away when I was twenty-three, and as it turned out, I didn’t know this man very well, even though we lived as a whole family and under the same roof. For me he was a reserved military man, a colonel, a private man and introvert, a techie, a mathematician, an athlete, and the one that many people look up to. I was surprised to find three dozen photo films taken by my father in his early twenties. But most of all, I was struck by my father’s self-portraits, taken in huge numbers.
I’ve never imagined my dad like that: talented, sensitive, attentive to details.
Sadly I realized I would no longer have the pleasure of talking to my father about photography, which I had never discussed with him, about his self-portraits, the sky of the 70s, and my father’s spiritual sensitivity. And I decided to continue the dialogue with the help of the remaining archive. I wanted to bring together two existing worlds – the one captured in photo films and the one in which I live. And I wanted to find answers for myself on questions: who is this man who looks at me bravely from black and white photographs? And where am I in here, the one who is scared of her own self-portraits?
Combining two personal stories of the same family in this project – mine and my father’s – I became increasingly aware that communication with relatives who are not alive always continued. But just as in everyday life, dialogue must be allowed to happen.