The Mold that We Melt in

I am in Ras Masqa, a village in North of Lebanon, and I knock on people’s doors. With my flash, I capture them in their daily routine: the mold that they melt in. For the first time, I decide to turn the camera on myself. With the same technique, they take a photo of me. To talk about the inhabitants of a village we say in Arabic “ahel day3a”, the literal translation being “the parents of the village”. By taking a picture of myself, it’s as if they are re-inventing me. Me on the one side and them on the other, all the photos share the same research. As always, I search for myself through others. I printed these images and redistributed them in the 25 different places where the pictures were taken. To find their own photos the people are invited to know on each others’ doors…