Years ago, I went to Burano (Venice). Rather than with the coloured, glamorous images of the houses reflecting in the canals, I fell in love with the backroads. Crumbling walls, decaying window shutters, closed abandoned houses. I was intrigued and started a project about the lives lived behind these windows and walls.
I discovered the stories of many who lived there. Unsung heroes, remembered only by few. Their lives, left behind. Then, my own life took over, and the project went dormant. Until, in September 2020, I lost my mum. Suddenly. No signs. Gone. Lost.
While recovering and grieving, I thought about all the friends and loved ones I lost during the years. Life Behind restarted, morphing from Burano’s to my own world, becoming about all the people I lost. People who meant the world for some and have been forgotten by the world at large.
Telling about them, I reopen for a second the windows and tear down for a moment the walls their lives have been left behind.
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