Dreamlog / Photo 6
We weave our way through buildings, through markets.
Then we arrive at a wooded place
— a bit deserted.
Dogs are barking.
There’s a guard.
But the dogs are not tied.
The balloon drifts in that direction.
I feel a little afraid.
We weave our way through buildings, through markets.
Then we arrive at a wooded place
— a bit deserted.
Dogs are barking.
There’s a guard.
But the dogs are not tied.
The balloon drifts in that direction.
I feel a little afraid.
Dreamlog / Photo 1
I see myself from the outside. Then the angle changes, and I walk toward the mirror. When I look in the mirror, I’m surprised. Because my face is full of strange dents. As if my face were made of dough and someone had poked holes in it with the back of a pencil. I was scared.
I see myself from the outside. Then the angle changes, and I walk toward the mirror. When I look in the mirror, I’m surprised. Because my face is full of strange dents. As if my face were made of dough and someone had poked holes in it with the back of a pencil. I was scared.
This photography series is a blend with my dream diary -which I kept between 2013 to 2016- with double / long exposure photography that I took around my house and parks of Athens.
Can dreams be political? Can they carry identities or is everyone queer in their dreams?
One night; dream to dream jumping experience.
Dream in a dream.
Can dreams be political? Can they carry identities or is everyone queer in their dreams?
One night; dream to dream jumping experience.
Dream in a dream.
Lucid Chronicles
