Remembering the Things I Don’t Know

It all started with a small box filled with silver gelatin prints. A few faces, a flight to the beach. Documentation of a trip that one might mistake for a missionary stay. The photographs offer themselves to the gaze, without ever fully submitting to it. For the artist, looking is not enough: he must feel in order to see.

Samuel Graveline presents a poetic installation here, juxtaposing digitized 8mm film with silk prints. As images proliferate, he imposes a slowing down, a kind of re-education of the gaze. Between unveiling and opacity, his methodology highlights handmade devices whose materiality accumulates layers and veils. The analog and the digital perform a waltz where time—slow time—becomes an ally rather than a competitor. Where the origin of what is seen remains a secret.

Excerpt from the exhibition text