/səˈspɛndɪd/
1. Temporarily prevented from continuing or being in force or effect.
2. Supported by attachment from above; hanging.
3. To float in liquid or air without moving.
That feeling of immobility, a sense of stillness, idleness. No motion, but there was just a second before and there will be just one after.
These photos are part of an ongoing series called Suspended.During the quarantine – somehow a forced situation of suspended time – I’ve had the chance of reflecting on my own relationship with time and space.
I’ve been living around the world since when I was 17: Italy, then Canada, Switzerland, Tokyo, London and now Amsterdam – movement is an integral part of my life, but so became its opposite: immobility, idleness, stillness. Being used to get lost in so many different places and still finding myself in still images. Humans understand the world by opposites and in this dualistic view, one cannot be without the other.
When our constantly accelerated lives are compressed abruptly into no motion, the perception of that instant translates into the feeling of being suspended. And it’s not about physical idleness, but rather about moments of awakening from our hectic routines, sudden awareness of smaller things, that redirect you to be present in time.
Usually transitory moments, unfinished, undefined, like balloons on a tree, noticed out of the corner of my eye. They make you smile for a second, they lead you somewhere else. Moody landscapes and ordinary snapshots are juxtaposed in order to describe that intimate dialogue, sometimes restless, sometimes veiled of nostalgia.
Places or just instants, between day and night, sometimes surreal and ephemeral. Like dusk and dawn, they are timeless. You cannot say when they start or end. Moments that last forever, or just for a second; moments when everything becomes crystal clear or suddenly completely blurred. The time suspended between our lives that run.
About Claudia Orsetti
I am an architect by training, but photography has always been a tool of exploration and communication, a tool to documenting and question the world around us, but especially my own relationship with it. I am a very curious and inquisitive person by nature, therefore visually interrogating reality (or its perception) has always been somehow my way of navigating it.
My work is usually gravitating around the themes of time, contradictions and memory, and takes shape in various genres of photography, whether street, landscape, documentary or fine art. I’m generally interested in the things next to what is considered to be photographed, the imprecise moments without expectations, the reality where you think there is nothing to see. The relationship of humans with their territory, of men and landscape is another realm of exploration which I am currently bringing forward on a new project called “Of the land and us: cartography of oblivion”.
In order to not use photography as a mere witness, but as a tool able to generate dialogue, I am very interested in transforming single photos into something else. Sure I love a beautiful, aesthetically pleasing picture, but I prefer focusing on the conversation that photography can sparkle. For instance, coupling two pictures together means they are nor one or the other anymore, they elicit a third image which is new, it’s in the mind and the experiences of the viewer; it changes from person to person, and that process is what I am most interested in. I also like to use different visual styles as I believe that is also part of the communication form of photography, although my photos have a recurring softness as well as a defined colour palette, which is something I research a lot.
I have self-published two books, “For the time being” and “Ordinary Intimacy”, and my photos and projects are regularly featured in digital platforms, magazine or newspaper, like Feature Shoot, Ignant, Mache’ Digital, ArtWort, etc… [Official Website]
