The day after his mother's death, Didier Bizet took the task of paying tribute to him so as not to bury him forever. The silver prints and the Kodachrome® slides are precious material, arguably the best part of the heritage. They are the ones who reassure us in our perpetual quest for identity. With time running faster than it goes, our minds are obsessed with always worrying about tomorrow, but what are we doing so that the past is not lost in our busy lives?
This is how the photographer begins a long work attempting to photograph his funeral on that day in June. Then he went to dig through his family's photographic archives in search of a past that is enigmatic to him. Stacks of boxes filled with carefully dated and filed slides, yellowed envelopes of prints from France during President Albert Lebrun's time. Then, some memories reappear then disappear, they blur and end up upsetting his remembrance.
In the apartment, almost empty of meaning and soon of furniture, he photographs all the objects that have seen him grow before they too disappeared, like a painful but necessary inventory.
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