I have this strange relationship with lost places. Sure it is very fascinating to find these beautiful old houses with all these memories left behind, which can make you imagination literally explode. I believe to be able to still smell the perfume of the longhaired girl who just looked at herself in the mirror. I see her hair flying while she is running up the stairs of the gallery. I hear the champagne corks popping at the iridescent parties all over the mansion. The lights and dimmed so all the little amusements stay even more private. Meanwhile the widow upstairs cries about her sins to our creator…
But there is this other ugly side, people soiling and destroyed these places. Marking themselves with shitty graffitis, leaving their dirt and disrespect behind.
And obviously there is the more humble Urban/Urbex photographer scene. They document the place the way it is and that way rob all the remained charm and shine. Even create space for the destroyers. I’m definitely fed up with these images.
I try to recreate what I believe I see. I want to give the beauty and the glow to an era which was rarely photographed. Yes I am a helpless romanticist!
