I live in places that I have photographed and that remain unknown and unimaginable to me. In some way, I was drawn to the places where I consciously chose to live in order to start a new life. Many of these are places that do not matter, others are world cities, others still are places of worship, of strategic, economic, tourist, cultural, or commercial interest. In any case, in terms of the project's guiding principle, I interpreted them as places even further away than those that do not matter: as places that no one would stop to look at. In this sense, I believe I was completely wrong: wrong enough to bend my position, my role as an investigator, photographer, and designer of my own imagination as well as of the territory I have inhabited since I began this project. Narrating through images, in fact, is the work of those who have nothing in their hands, of those who are unarmed. This is the realm of the photographer, my realm: what can no longer be shown.

The intention was to break with the concepts of realism, where reality is seen as an obstacle: landscapes must dissolve into thin air, and with them their images, thus abolishing the separation between focus and out of focus, between object and subject. The presence of blurring can create a sense of ambiguity and mystery, but it is also an opportunity to emphasize the importance of what is not immediately visible, unimaginable, in fact, inviting a more in-depth form of exploration, beyond superficiality, towards the multiple stratifications and transformations of the moment that lie beyond instantaneity in a visual narrative that suggests continuity, change, and a reflection on the form, function, and meaning of the landscapes themselves.

Things, in fact, appear for the nature of which they are made: landscapes are not inert, they are not imaginary, they are not a surface, landscapes happen on every scale, they change, they take time, they are often invisible, they indulge and digress, they do not reassure, they frighten and sometimes they make you fall in love. With landscapes, you never know how they will turn out; they are effervescent, temporary, lost, imminent, imperfect in the sense that they will never be completed. Landscapes are like bodies with a poetic reaction: they trigger a dialectical visibility as they emerge from uncomfortable, disturbing territories, not from the third landscape, as abandonments, but as a pure form of desire and intention. It is necessary to desire new landscapes, with strength, with pure intention, and then wait for the landscapes to fulfill their time and verify that the promise is kept: I formally renounce the project and, faced with the vision, I say I am not here, I exist: landscapes are no longer an image.