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I have been thinking a lot about old photographs and about the people in them. Especially anonymous ones, people I don't know.The photograph is a fleeting moment in somebody's life. Does the photograph show the truth? Who were the people in them? What kind of lives have they lived? Happy? Horrible? My mind wanders and fills in their stories, the ones I imagine to be the reality behind the lie the image can show. To me that lie is the public persona of the person. This is what we are choosing to display on a regular basis.
I like to fill in the story of that person's life. I am not interested in researching the real truth. Their lives to me are like diaramas we build as children. The mystery needs to prevail for me to remain interested. I keep coming back to the image in hope I can uncover something true. I draw and paint the image because it allows me to intensively look and with each pencil stroke I establish an imaginary relationship. I slip into their story and live in their lives for that time period.
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