The digital content we encounter daily is mesmerizing, perpetually regenerated, but often quickly forgotten. The stream of texts, images and videos are consumed en masse, but rarely have a lasting perceptible impact on its consumers. It stays merely afloat in the online realm.

For Inbox interference, we selected digital artworks that aim to have a small but significant impact on your digital routine.

A collection of artworks conceived and mediated through the digital format will be shared in a series of newsletters.

Check the previous newsletters : 
︎ Marc Buchy
︎ Emi Kodama
︎ Jonas Beerts

Marc Buchy

Gymnastique Oculaire

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Keywords : knowledge, control, acquisition, conceptual, surveillance, tool, activation, point of view, movement, ocular, visual fatigue, physical experience, body, humour, protocol, learning, capitalism, performance

The contemporary eye is constantly pushed to its limit, exposed to thousands of images a day. How many images have you already seen today before reading this?

Reflecting with humor on the notions of performance, mechanization and learning, the conceptual works of the artist Marc Buchy questions the act of watching. They are invitations to grasp and perform within the space offered by his protocols.

In Gymnastique Oculaire, the symbols – arrows, spiral, square – could conceal some hidden meaning, abstract visualization of complex realities. They are in fact originating from a series of numbered instructions, yoga exercises to train your eye-balls and build up muscle. Did you know that no less than 7 muscles control the movements of each eye?

Straight lines, then diagonals, zig zag and loops gradually makes the exercice your eyes have to perform more and more difficult. In a society pushing everyone to its limits, even the eye doesn’t escape this culture of performance.

But does a fit eye see better? What about a trained eye? Does it enhance your visual performance?

If you take a few minutes to practice these exercises every day, including this tiny and almost invisible choreography in your workout routine, let us know.


A subjective selection of links echoing this work, like ripples
︎ Strauss, Hannah Hoch
︎ Ways of seeing, Grace Ndiritu (en)
︎ Les sonas, Index Graphic (fr)
︎ Drishti Bheda, Eye movemements in Bharatanatyam
︎ Subject Matter, John Baldessari

Marc Buchy

Born in 1988 in Metz, Marc Buchy lives and works in Bruxelles.
During his studies, the artist committed to never learn dance and astronomy, thus affirming the value of amateurism as an approach to disciplines. The question of knowledge, how it is shared, appropriated, how it circulates, is central to his practice.

In his works, often conceptual, sometimes immaterial, he develops processes and protocols, often implying the participation of the public. He’s interested in the way we see, processes of domination and transmission.

Website :

I want to go further :

︎ Watch this video interview for Marc Buchy’s exhibition at BPS22 in 2020
︎ Watch this conference of Marc Buchy at ENSP (Arles) in 2022

Emi Kodama

At the tip of your pencil

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Keywords : imagination, landscape, drawing, blindness, focus, hand, interiority

You are invited to listen to a story which guides you in making a drawing while blindfolded.

You are asked to imagine their mind’s eye at the tip of their pencil and draw what you see in your inner landscape.

Drawing helps concentrate imagination and the experience of looking is more important than the result. I begin by telling you a story that take you into the forest.

The resulting drawing isn’t important at all. It’s simply the residue of the internal journey you take.”

Material needed :

– blindfold
– pencil
– paper (preferably A3)
– headphones (recommanded)

Duration : 12 min

Prepare the paper and pencil and launch the mp3. Emi Kodama’s voice will guide you.

︎ Listen to the instructions for At the tip of your pencil


A subjective selection of links echoing this work, like ripples
︎ Browse through ekphrastic poems
︎ Giuseppe Penone, Palpebra
︎ Jean Tinguely demonstrates his Meta-Matics machines (1959)
︎ Paul Auster, White Spaces
︎ Hercules Seghers, An introduction

Emi Kodama

Through a multidisciplinary practice that includes writing, performance, and installation, Emi layers elements of daily life with dreams and memories to create stories that people can explore and expand. Her work blends your inner world with hers. She wants to give others the opportunity to spend time in their mental space — for them to be curious, ask questions, and realize the power of their own imagination.

Emi is a Japanese-Canadian artist from Vancouver and has been in Belgium since 2008 when she started the post-graduate program at the Higher Institute for Fine Arts (HISK). She holds an MFA from the Frank Mohr Institute (NL) and a BFA from the ArtEZ Institute of the Arts (NL). She lives in Ghent with partner and collaborator Elias Heuninck and their son.

“Stories can take many forms and I make use of their mutable nature through a multidisciplinary practice including video, photography, drawing, writing, and performance. My work focuses on the every day like the short stories of Raymond Carver, who writes about daily struggles with a minimalism that emphasizes brevity and intensity. Similarly, I attempt to be precise about the commonplace in a way that sheds new light on familiar objects and
situations. My work is biographical on the surface, but the initial sense of familiarity is often undermined by gaps in the narrative that leave one with a feeling of alienation. The discrepancy between different parts of my stories
evokes the ambiguity of situations in daily life and the discomfort of facing conflicting thoughts.”

Website :

Jonas Beerts

How I learned tears can’t fill rivers

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Keywords : labyrinth, hyperlinks, architect, loop, inside, colors, house, architect, inside, path, song


Don’t go to strangers
is what they told me when I was younger

I am a stranger myself now
inviting you to follow me

There is a color for every path
A riddle for every color
A voice for every riddle

Don’t be afraid of my voice

I won’t fool you
won’t seduce you
I won’t stop singing until you are gone

We sing for the places we can’t go to
For the people we can’t see

Push hard on wounds
was my mothers’ advice

Trade pain for tears
my fathers’ refrain

learned that tears can’t fill rivers
His excrements are everywhere

I try to prevent intestines from falling out of our bodies
I try to postpone missing you

What remains is the longing to sing and to be sung

Sincerely yours


A subjective selection of links echoing this work, like ripples
︎ Labyrinth – Four times through the labyrinth, Olaf Nicolai et Jan Wenzel
︎ Primal Images, Natalia Ossef
︎ 13 Essential Rules for Understanding the World, Basim Magdy, 2011, Super 8 film transferred to HD, 5 min 16
︎ Falsos Amigos, Lihuel González,
︎ Autofiction Poems, Pedro Neves Marques

Jonas Beerts

Jonas Beerts was born on a Wednesday in the summer of 1997 and has been a bricoleur of images ever since.
At the age of six, Jonas took up a camera and has been a Stone cold lover of photography ever since.
At the age of 18, Jonas started his studies of photography at KASK, Ghent.
At the age of 23, he graduated with a big pile of media at his feet. He cunningly stumbles over the pile and tries to make the best out of it.
Jonas loves Sarah, and vice versa.
They love each other so much they started sharing a practice together.
They go under Sarah & Jonas or Jonas & Sarah. Whatever floats your boat.
His eyes are attracted by two lovebirds on a windowsill across the streets.
His head drifts away through the open window.
He invites you to follow.

Website :
︎ @jonasbeerts

Following the cancelation of graduation shows for art students in June 2020, n o s h o w s h o w is an invitation to eight young artists from Ghent’s art schools, KASK and LUCA, to develop a solo presentation in the vitrine of artist-run space KOLDER.

When doors are closed, windows and vitrines become stages for contactless interactions. During summer 2020, each artist imagined a specific installation for the vitrine space, in connection with a programmation of events.

The proposals resulted in 8 one-week solo show, with diverse use of the space, through mediums such as performance, sculpture, photography, installation, painting or video.


Deal with it

Esthétiques de la réparation

Research project


support programme by

CARE et photographie: Que peut une image ? Esthétique de la réparation
Monday 21 november 2022
lecture, La Cambre, Bruxelles (BE)

CARE et photographie: workshop with Anna Püschel
Monday 21 and Tuesday 22 november 2022
workshop, La Cambre, Bruxelles (BE)

Photographic Practices as Care-Taking:The Pharmakon Image
Thursday 24 and Friday 25 november 2022
paper presentation, UiT Arctic University of Norway, Tromsø (NO)

Itinéraires de réparation: moss in conversation with Estefanía Peñafiel Loaiza
Wednesday 14 december 2022
lecture, Beaux-Arts de Paris (FR)

Workshop with Hideyuki Ishibashi
Tuesday 24 january 2023
workshop, Lycée Professionnel Louise de Bettignies, Cambrai (FR)

moss collective and Livia Melzi in conversation with Béatrice Josse
Thursday 25 may 2023
lecture, Institut pour la photographie, Lille (FR)

Considering images both as bearers of different forms of real or symbolic violence and as interfaces for individual or collective repair, Deal with it – Esthétique de la réparation examines the curative aspect inherent in certain visual arts gestures in artistic practices, which act as tools of resistance. Erasure, covering, repetition, cropping, glitch, collection, imprint, collage, and even reconstitution, the multiple actions carried out by the artists on the body of images resemble attempts at conjuration and appropriation.

Physical or dematerialised, images can be personal, found, from archives, or amateur images circulating online. These distinct gestures then act as micro-actions of individual resistance to events and general media overload. Also participating in a recovery/showcasing of parallel images or narratives, they contribute to repairing a form of cultural forgetting and erasure, in order to change dominant narratives and representations.

As Legacy Russell points out in her book Glitch Feminism, ‘remixing (…) is a technology of survival’. Through close dialogue with a selection of artists who consider and heal images, this research project studies these different processes of resistance via images, within which the latter act as a pharmakon, both remedy and poison. 


Explore resources gathered over this research through the categories and tags below. 



Explore resources gathered over this research through the categories and tags below. 



Explore resources gathered over this research through the categories and tags below. 

{Research Process}


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︎ Repair ︎


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︎ Reconstruction ︎


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Six questions about care and resistance: Léa Belooussovitch

How would you define the notion of care in the context of your practice?

In my practice, I would say that the notion of care could be related equally to materials, subjects and plastic gestures. Textile is very present in my work, as a support to receive textual sources or images: I often employ non-woven textiles (felt, mops, single-use cloths, etc.) which have strong capacities of absorption for matter and sound. I see it a bit like a bandage, blotting paper that soak up a vulnerability or an injury.
Also by means of cropping and reframing existing images, by eliminating areas of the image, it is as if the image were purified and therefore “cured”; often in my works, we don't see anything directly violent, the violence is located offscreen, in a text or in the abstract content, in a way this is also a form of visual care.
The subjects that I address, such as the last wishes of prisoners sentenced to death, the wives of accused criminals, or animals mistreated by men, are innocent witnesses of a tainted humanity, and offering them the central stage in my work is my way of taking care of them.

Léa Belooussovitch, Perp Walk (Handkerchief) detail (2019)
Photographic print on marbled velvet
Photo © Gilles Ribero

How would you define the notion of resistance in the context of your practice? Would you say this is a concept that applies to your work? What are you resisting?

This is not necessarily the first notion that I think of when I create my pieces, but it is true that in my series of drawings on felt we could speak of a resistance to disappearance, to trauma, to the image-reine... in my other works, perhaps we can talk about resistance to injustice, resistance to the image-as-proof, resistance to violence in general.

Léa Belooussovitch, Ejere, Ethiopie, 10 mars 2019 (Ethiopian airlines 302) (2020)
Drawings with colour pencils on felt
Photo ©Gilles Ribero

How do care and resistance intersect within your projects? Is caring a form of resistance? Is resisting a way to take care?

As an image producer, I try through my works to face the monster Image: to apprehend it and probe it in its worst aspects, as one learns to know their enemy well. In opposition to the cruelty the Image can carry within itself, and its most incisive, intransigent, accusatory, dramatic sides, I put in place strategies of gentleness, repair, resilience, anonymization, enhancement of misplaced vulnerability; in a sense we can say this is a form of resistant reaction, a humane wish to take care of the irreparable.

Léa Belooussovitch, The Blue Wall of Silence - Anonymous Witnesses (2019)
Serie of 24 images.
The original images are screenshots taken from amatorial videos documenting instances of police brutality, the victims have been digitally erased.

What is for you the role of images and their power, or their limits, in this process?

Images are limitless, I think. It is the man who, through censorship, editorial choice, restriction, computer tools, constrains it. We see it today with the beginnings of A.I: very soon, it will be equally difficult to prove that an image is true as to prove that it is false: I find this issue fascinating because at its core it is an issue of Truth, in the philosophical sense of the term. If we don't constrain the image, the image will devour us completely, the monster we have created will be uncontrollable and it is not impossible to imagine democracies crumble in the aftermath, for example, or entire populations take refuge into different versions of reality. The image can end up destroying the notion of truth and I find that very dangerous. I think it's a monster that needs to be contained so it doesn't devour everything in its path.

Is it possible to resist images through images?

I think you can twist them, manipulate them, question them, by touching them directly. For me, images are matter: a material that can be transformed, modeled, drawn, used, retouched, cut, printed, projected, etc. It is an immaterial material which is not structured like a language, however, it is through them that we communicate, and we have yet to learn how to read them, how to "speak image". Images are light, are pixels, are infinitely prolific, they are floating and everywhere around us, like particles. What is paradoxical is that without men, the Image would not exist.
The animal instead is free from this yoke.

Léa Belooussovitch, Jodhpur, Inde, 23 mai 2018 (2019)
Triptyc, Drawings with colour pencils on felt
Photos © Gilles Ribero

Is the violence of the gestures you employ (rubbing the pencil on felt, cropping, erasing)a response to the violence of the original images you manipulate? Do you think these gestures can paradoxically offer a form of reparation?

It’s a form of reaction, yes, a little revenge towards the Image. I felt a need to remove certain intolerable elements (as I did in The Methods, Blue Wall of Silence) in order to transform the very meaning of the image, to deceive it, to amputate it. By changing its meaning, the image says something different, something more vulnerable; in a way it is as if these gestures applied to the image serve as a means to change its meaning. Rubbing the pencil on the felt may seem a little aggressive, but at the same time it’s also an emphatic and a purging action: it’s like injecting the violence of the trauma directly into the fibers, and discard it there to be able to step into resilience.

Léa Belooussovitch,  Les Méthodes (2015)
A series investigating how acts of violence are administered: the original photographs depicts executions in countries that still apply the death penalty in public.
The executioners are present in the photographs while those accused have been removed.

Six questions sur le soin et la résistance: Léa Belooussovitch

Comment définiriez-vous la notion de soin dans le contexte de votre pratique?

Dans ma pratique, je dirais que la notion de soin pourrait s’apparenter à la fois aux matériaux, aux sujets et aux gestes plastiques. Le textile est très présent, en tant que support de réception de sources textuelles ou d’images : souvent ce sont des textiles non tissés (feutre, serpillières, torchons à usage unique..) qui ont de fortes capacités d’absorption, à la fois de la matière mais aussi sonore. Je les vois un peu comme des pansements, des buvards qui s’imprègnent d’une vulnérabilité ou d’une blessure.
Par des actes aussi de recadrage dans des images existantes, en éliminant des zones de l’image, c’est comme si l’image en était épurée et donc « guérie »; souvent dans mes oeuvres, on ne voit rien de directement violent, la violence se situe hors champ, dans un texte ou dans le contenu, en ce sens c’est aussi une forme de soin visuel.
Les sujets que j’aborde, comme par exemple les dernières volontés de condamnés à mort, les femmes de criminels accusées, ou les animaux malmenés par les hommes, sont des sujets toujours empreints d’une humanité bafouée, une innocence, et leur donner la place centrale d’une oeuvre est une manière de prendre soin d’eux.

Léa Belooussovitch, Perp Walk (Hood) (2019)
Impression photo sur velours marbré
Photo © Gilles Ribero

Comment définirais-tu la notion de résistance dans le cadre de ta pratique ?  Dirais-tu que c’est un concept qui s'applique à tes travaux ? Contre quoi tu résistes?

Ce n’est pas forcément la première notion à laquelle je pense lorsque je crée les oeuvres, mais c’est vrai que dans mes dessins sur feutre on pourrait parler d’une résistance à la disparition, au traumatisme, à l’image-reine.. dans mes autres pièces, peut-être une résistance à l’injustice, à l’image-preuve, à la violence de manière générale.

Léa Belooussovitch, Ejere, Ethiopie, 10 mars 2019 (Ethiopian airlines 302) (2020)
Dessins aux crayons de couleur sur feutre
Photo ©Gilles Ribero

Quelle serait pour toi l’articulation entre soin et résistance et quelle forme cela prend dans tes projets ? Prendre soin est-il une forme de résistance ? Résister est-il une façon de prendre soin?

Face au monstre Image et en tant que productrice d’images, je dirais que je tente par mes oeuvres de lui faire face, de l’appréhender et le sonder sous ses pires aspects, comme on apprend à bien connaître son ennemi. En opposition au cruel, au côté incisif, immédiat, intransigeant, accusateur, dramatique que peut porter en elle l’Image, les stratégies que je mets en place sont plutôt de l’ordre de la douceur, de la réparation, résilience, l'anonymisation, mise en valeur de la vulnérabilité qui a pu être égarée; en ce sens on peut dire que c’est une forme de réaction résistante, dans un axe d’humanité et de prendre soin de l’irréparable.

Léa Belooussovitch, The Blind side (2019)

Quel est pour toi le rôle de l’image et leur pouvoir - ou leurs limites - dans ce processus ?

Les images sont sans limites, je pense. C’est l’homme qui par la censure, le choix éditorial, la restriction, l’outil informatique, la contraint. On le voit aujourd’hui avec les prémices de l’A.I : très bientôt, il sera aussi difficile de prouver qu’une image est vraie que de prouver qu’elle est fausse : je trouve cette question fascinante car elle met au coeur le problème de la Vérité, au sens philosophique du terme. Si l’on ne contraint pas l’image, l’image va nous dévorer complètement, le monstre que nous avons crée sera alors incontrôlable et par exemple, il n’est pas impossible de voir s’écrouler les démocraties, de voir des populations s’engouffrer dans des versions différentes de la réalité; l’image peut finir par anéantir la notion de vérité et je trouve cela très dangereux. Je pense que c’est un monstre qui doit être contenu afin qu’il ne dévore pas tout sur son passage.

Est-ce possible de résister aux images par le biais des images elles-même ?

Je pense que l’on peut la tordre, la manipuler, la questionner, en la touchant directement. Pour moi les images constituent une matière. Une matière qui peut être transformée, modelée, dessinée, utilisée, retouchée, coupée, imprimée, projetée… c’est une matière immatérielle, qui n’est pas structurée comme un langage. Pourtant, c’est par elles que nous communiquons, et nous n’avons pas appris à les lire, à "parler image". Les images sont lumière, sont pixels, sont prolifiques à l’infini, elle sont flottantes et partout autour de nous, comme des particules. Ce qui est paradoxal, c’est que sans l’homme, l’Image n’existerait pas. L’animal lui, est libre de ce joug.

Léa Belooussovitch, The Blue Wall of Silence - Anonymous Witnesses (2019)
Serie of 24 images. The original images are screenshots taken from amatorial videos documenting instances of police brutality, the victims have been digitally erased.

La violence des gestes (frotter le crayon sur le feutre, recadrer, effacer) est-elle une réponse à la violence des images à partir desquelles tu travailles ? Comment expliquerais-tu que ces gestes offrent paradoxalement une forme de réparation ?

C’est une forme de réaction, oui, ou une petite vengeance envers l'Image. Une sorte de besoin d’enlever certains éléments intolérables (Les Méthodes ou Blue Wall of Silence par exemple) afin de transformer la signification même de l’image, de la tromper, de l’amputer. En changeant son sens, elle dit autre chose de plus vulnérable, en quelque sorte c’est comme si ces gestes appliqués aux images servaient de moyen pour changer leur sens. En frottant le crayon sur le feutre, c’est un peu agressif mais en même temps emphatique et purgatoire : c’est comme injecter par le geste la violence du traumatisme pour s’en débarrasser à l’intérieur des fibres, et entrer dans la résilience.

Léa Belooussovitch,  Les Méthodes (2015)
A series investigating how acts of violence are administered: the original photographs depicts executions in countries that still apply the death penalty in public.
The executioners are present in the photographs while those accused have been removed.

Léa Belooussovitch: The Hunt (2016)

︎ Read about this work on the artist´s website

Les Rencontres d’Arles:
Annegret Soltau

From the exhibition A Feminist Avant-Garde, Photographs and Performances of the 1970’s from the Verbund Collection, Vienna

Kader Attia: notions of Repair 

Kader Attia, Untitled (2017)

A major matter in Kader Attia’s work is his notion of Repair. Working around complex collective memories using ideas around recovery and repair, Attia has been developing his concept of Repair in his writings and visual oeuvre. 

'Repair', in his view, is an underground and constant process that is inextricably linked to the chaos of pain and trauma and the restorative capacity in people, nature, culture, myth and history. 

“ Repair” is an endless oxymoron; it carries both, the notion of destruction and reconstruction within the same terminology. It took me years of observations and investigations to understand that ‘repair’ is the core reason (“la raison d’être”) of the existence of “reappropriation”, and that in fact, it applies to culture as much as to nature. ”

︎ Kader Attia, Mimesis as resistance (2013)

This idea of Repair may appear as tangible and visible, taking for example the 'gueules cassées' of World War I, but is also mirrored in the restorative and resisting potential of a colonised community, where Repair becomes the natural answer to a torn social-political fabric. 

Kader Attia, Untitled (2017) from the exhibition Repairing the Invisible, SMAK (2017). 

In Western view, to repair is synonymous to restore: it aims to return the injured, broken or torn object or subject to its earliest state, without leaving any traces that change might have occured. Attia, however, envisions Repair as opposite of this rationalist vision of burning old bridges behind us in order to move forward. On the contrary, here, the memory of the trauma preceding the repair persists within the 'repaired', like sutures do. These sutures are literally reflected, for example, in the Japanese art of Kintsugi, where broken pottery is visibly repaired with gold or silver glue.

Such examples tell us that whatever is in need of healing/repair, the process of repair and who or what has undergone this process, is all of equal value. The trauma, Greek for injury, is not ignored, neither forgotten.

In his video Réfléchir La Mémoire, the artist directly links phantom pain- the perception that one experiences relating to a limb that is not physically part of their body - to pain caused by collective trauma. In the video, we see people silently sitting or standing. A mirror is placed next to them, so at first glance nothing seems to be going on. But when the camera moves slightly, we see that they are missing limbs, where before this absence was completed by the mirror.  A man appears to be praying with two hands, but from above we see that the hand in the mirror misses an entire arm. These images are interspersed with interviews with experts - professors in socio-cultural fields, as well as surgeons, neurologists and psycho-analysts. They are often representatives of a community familiar with trauma, motivating that the physical pain in missing limbs resonates the same sad harmony as a traumatised community, burdened by occupation, (cultural) genocide and colonialism. Just like the people in the video, a traumatised community experiences a loss, an everyday absence of something that is no more, but has been. Here, a phantom arrives, becoming like a 'traumatic ghost, haunting them'. 

Kader Attia, Reflecting Memory (2016)

Agnés Geoffray

Les gisants (2015)

The corpus of images at the origin of this work is the archive of reporter Gaston Chérau that was sent to Tripoli in 1911 to document the colonial war between the then Italian kingdom and Ottoman empire, in the territory of what is now Libya.

The archive was rediscovered thanks to a research project of the art historian Pierre Schill that in 2014 invited a group of writers and artists (visual artists, dancers, choreographers) to activate and recontextualize the archival material.

Agnés Geoffray’s attention was drawn to the photographs depicting victims: mostly fallen, unidentified soldiers from both sides of the conflict. Often these lying bodies are not even the subjects of the images, but they are mere figures in the background.

Her intervention consists on cropping, enlarging and reprinting each victim alone on glass plates; then display the glass plates wrapped in silk paper, commonly used for the conservation of fragile photographs.

There are several ideas at play here: there’s the performative act of protecting the photograph-object by wrapping it in paper, recognising its fragility (which is amplified by the decision to use a fragile material, glass plate, as support). There’s also the effort to rehabilitate the fallen soldiers from the collective status of victims to separate individuals.

This interventions betrays the ambivalence in the representation of violence that is central in Agnés Geoffray´s research: reframing the victim amplifies the violence of the image once again. Instead of a mass of victims of the conflict, the spectator is now confronted with considering the horror of every individual death.

At the same time there’s the caring intention of restoring the visibility of the individuals fallen during the conflict, amplified by the physical, performative act of wrapping them carefully in paper - a symbolic form of burial.

This idea of symbolic burial is echoed by the choice of displaying the photographs on a table very low and close to the ground, that forces the viewer to kneel beside them, to touch the photograph-object, unwrapping it to be able to access it. Touching history with one´s own hands, and participating in the secondary symbolic burial process by rewrapping each photograph after viewing it.

Photo credit: Agnés Geoffray 

︎ See this work on the artist´s website