Like many of the best things in life, this project started with a mistake.
The printer broke in February, turning my images into illegible lines of primary colour. They were the kind of lines that every owner of a printer suffers from time to time, but they were breaking down the images completely.
It is then that I realized I did not want to fix the printer anymore, but to fix the images.
As a nurse, working in a dementia ward for the last seven years, these broken images reminded me of the broken memories of my patients, or my own broken memories.
The months of working during covid were probably the hardest time of my life. I was finishing my BA in photography when the world stopped, and I was called into work. I was working almost every day, trying to finish my Major Project, lying to my parents in Spain, telling them everything was fine in Edinburgh.
In the summer of `21, when we all finally got some relief, I got depression, like many health workers. If, before, I did not have enough time to make photographs, now I did not have the strength. It was painful to even look at my old work.
So, I printed it all with the broken machine, to fix every image—to accept them. Because when you work as a nurse you become a hypochondriac, you fear every disease, and there is no disease I fear most than the disease of forgetting who I am, what I did.
This book is a time capsule, a fight against fear, and a celebration of the beauty of life. I tried to create a visual story—from when I was a kid to when I became an artist, from when I discovered lust to when I discovered love.