"Bring on The Light" was my first complete photographic project, from the images themselves to the making of the photobook. It marks a pivotal moment in both my personal life and my journey as a visual artist. In many ways, it was the beginning of everything.
It’s also one of the projects I approached most instinctively and unconsciously—I didn’t know what I was looking for, and it felt like the camera was guiding me, not the other way around.
Looking back now, the work takes on an entirely new symbolic meaning. Like many of the projects I created during that time in my life, it was a way of exorcising and sublimating a deep discomfort I was going through.
Art, in the end, is always the answer.
The abandoned house feels alive.
I follow the path, glancing around. I'm in the open countryside, and the rain is about to fall.
I follow the path, glancing around. I'm in the open countryside, and the rain is about to fall.
There's a malignant energy in the air.
Out of the darkness, a dog appears—white as snow. It starts guiding me along the path, as if that had always been its purpose.
Out of the darkness, a dog appears—white as snow. It starts guiding me along the path, as if that had always been its purpose.
When I arrive, I feel like an intruder in a house that hasn't seen visitors in a very long time. It stands there, suspended in stillness—apparently empty, deserted. Yet it feels as if it’s watching me, not the other way around.
The windows stare, piercing through me.
The trees whisper something through the rustling wind, their branches climbing upwards above my head into the night. All around me, a faceless danger.
The trees whisper something through the rustling wind, their branches climbing upwards above my head into the night. All around me, a faceless danger.
Suddenly, something brushes my right leg—it's the dog, who moves forward with quiet confidence across familiar ground.
He looks back to make sure I follow.
The dog invites me in.
I no longer feel like an intruder.
His calmness slowly becomes mine. I begin to feel at ease.
The dog invites me in.
I no longer feel like an intruder.
His calmness slowly becomes mine. I begin to feel at ease.
I start to see a beauty—almost sublime—in the trees and the house.
Beautiful and monstrous at once.
Gradually, sunlight breaks through the branches, illuminating everything.
The place no longer feels hostile, but instead mysteriously familiar.
Gradually, sunlight breaks through the branches, illuminating everything.
The place no longer feels hostile, but instead mysteriously familiar.
