Des machines me remplacent, se remplacent et se dématérialisent. Elles font écho dans ma tête depuis longtemps.
Le temps a passé et ce thème est encore plus d'actualité.
Des automates surannés se jouent des codes, usent de la nostalgie pour rester en vie et sont les théâtres éperdus dont les rideaux s'ouvrent sur notre propre comédie.
Bancales comme tant de personnes jugées obsolètes. Elle reflètent à elles seules l'individu pareil et différent et pourtant si singulier, si fragile.
Elles sont toutes photographes, accueils, confessionnaux, refuges, opportunités de rencontres et de partages.

Bruno D’ALIMONTE 05/2022
Berlin, October 2013, while I was experimenting a toy-lens attached on the camera, I was nearly dying with a painfull hernia that was exploding in my back.  The ache and the meds I took gave me a strange perception of the envirronment.
The weird lens I used returns a sort of partially fuzzy image that was matching to what I saw and felt.
Enthousiastic to depict the reality with the evanescence of my insignificant life, I discovered some « photoautomaten » by chance and I realized they were a metaphor of me : a rusty photographer who struggles against a system that try to replace him.
Back home,  I felt I could have make a set.
So 8 years later, during Winter I jumped back to Berlin, devoted to find an entire  photobooths' family to portray.
I’ve found 12 kinds of apostles and a lost to celebrate this set.
With certain sense of humour, the result is a pictorial pop and vintage set that evocates the stories of machines struggling against planned obsolescence. If you dig deeper on, which I warmly suggest you,  you'll probably find some more connotations to satisfy your insatiable imagination.


You may also like

Back to Top