I sent some photographs I had taken in Paris to a friend of mine. More than ten years ago, he studied philosophy on the continent through the Erasmus program and spent a short time in Paris. He said the photographs reminded him of that period. Later he sent me a few pictures from those days.
It struck me as rather curious: a distant time and this slightly aged present meeting at certain points in the images, where they seem to pass quietly into one another, exchanging their messages.
shot on #kodakcharmera @kodak
Eva Kunz was only a name. Until it became an image…
This photograph began with a moment in early April, when I happened to glance at a man’s phone screen in the underground, where I saw a WhatsApp window addressed to someone named Eva Kunz. The name struck me immediately. Since then, I found myself unable to stop unfolding associations around it in my mind. When I later looked back at a photograph I had taken in Edinburgh, a transparent glass pool standing alone in the darkness of a late night, the name Eva Kunz returned to me. “Eva” felt vast, like a nocturnal sea; “Kunz” was cold and gleaming, like small metallic structures catching fragments of light. And so I shaped this name into this photograph.
The logic behind the making of this image approaches that of a “crystal scan”. Throughout the process, I felt a kind of exhilaration and delight. I realised that its index arose from a level that exists entirely within my imagination, something delicate and elusive. And the punctum within the image often appears in dispersed, almost imperceptible ways, rising from a deep place and slipping away before it can be fully traced. This is a mode of indeterminate feeling that an image can offer, something new, time-sensitive, and effective. Curiously, at the moment I completed the image, another name suddenly surfaced in my mind, and so I titled the work Julio Sabín.
<Julio Sabín>, 2025
*documentation of the open studio*
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got this picture (cover) 2 years ago, in歌舞伎町一番街. i keep thinking of this image and wondering what’s behind. lacking evidence, so it still remains fully unknowable. Only the memory of that night hovering over it