I remember when I was about nine or ten years old, my father took me to Botswana for two weeks. We went there to do a safari, sleeping in reserves, with the lion foot-steps one meter away from our tents when we woke up in the morning. I saw and experienced incredible things, and of course, even if I wasn’t thinking about it in a professional way, I took pictures. I was there, going around the savannah, nine years old, with a camera, “shooting” at giraffes, elephants, and lions. I vividly remember the feeling I was experiencing when taking pictures of these wonderful animals. It felt like I was collecting a little bit of their soul. I was understanding what it means to capture a moment. I wasn’t only saving their images in a memory card, I was storing these creatures, these experiences, in my mind.
I haven’t been to Botswana since then, but the feeling of shooting animals remain the same, although they’re not the same. When I walk around cities, I still think about capturing the persons around me in their environment. The Savannah has given place to concrete jungles, and magnificent beasts have turned into dark silhouettes. I’m not trying to show the magnificence of natural landscapes, occupied by its kings and queens, I’m now trying to show the smallness of mankind towards what he constructed around him.
I don’t feel at ease in big cities as I do in more natural places. I feel it’s a less personal environment, in which loneliness can strike easily. We’re all there, walking around like ants, by the millions, yet a lot of us are deeply alone. This is what my work reflects about. The deep black shadows taking over the smaller figures, walking around, with and without any goals at the same time.