THE CHAIR SHE SAT IN

Series of 33 color photographs

Each image depicts a chair caught in its silent presence: abandoned chairs, worn chairs, displaced chairs, marked by time, by bodies, and by use.

These photographs are neither an inventory nor a staged composition. They emerge from an attention to ordinary objects that have become, almost despite themselves, surfaces of memory. Worn fabrics, sagging seats, altered textures, fragile structures — each chair seems to preserve something of a vanished presence.

The title discreetly introduces this emotional and narrative dimension. Yet nothing is ever explicit. The images remain deliberately distant, restrained, almost silent. They evoke less a specific person than a more diffuse experience of absence, passage, and remembrance.

Through these motionless objects, the work reflects on the traces time leaves upon things, on what spaces continue to hold after they have been abandoned. The chairs become paradoxical figures: bodies without bodies, empty presences, spaces of waiting.

The framing and light seek to shift these everyday objects toward a more uncertain, almost mental perception. Some images verge on abstraction; others retain a documentary directness. Between the two emerges a subtle tension in which the photographed object gradually ceases to be a simple piece of furniture and becomes instead a sensitive form charged with mute memory.

As often in my photographic work, the series is constructed less as a succession of autonomous images than as a constellation of variations, echoes, and resonances. Each photograph extends the previous one and anticipates the next, composing a fragile, fragmentary, and open-ended narrative.