Point of no return. Place of oblivion.

2025 

The moment after which the path back completely disappears. For me, this point was the photographs of the house where I grew up; they were sent to me after my father’s death. The house had sunk into oblivion, having lost its former belonging. For the first time, I felt like an outside observer. This project was not born by chance; having come into contact with someone else’s loss, I felt a familiar emptiness and helplessness. Having traveled to the Far North, to the villages around Vorkuta, to find a house that had already passed its point of no return, I found entire worlds. I climbed into abandoned apartments, collecting the remnants of someone else’s life, slowly decomposing in the damp and cold. I began to document the things I found in the houses, realizing that they had once belonged to someone. A ritual unfolds, impossible for me in my home. By carefully arranging them, I attempt to give these objects what I could not give to my own: dignity in care, preservation in photographs. In this gesture, I bid farewell to the place that was my home. I don’t simply bear witness to its decay; I enter into a silent dialogue with it, becoming the custodian of these ghostly fragments.