Family photos usually only capture happy moments. Therefore, it can be difficult to figure out which memories are real and which are false, and what actually happened at that moment when everyone is smiling at the picture. I tried to comprehend my childhood by taking the family photo archive on a solo trip along the Lycian Way.

I wonder if it is possible to divide memories into true and false if each character in archival photographs remembers the moment of shooting in his own way. Vague and filled with subjective meanings, the frames of the family archive are not a real document, but a projection of consciousness, directly dependent on the subject.

The project was made during a seven-day trek along the Lycian Way in Turkey. I decided to take a walk alone, feeling the need to be alone with nature and reflect on the impressions of the past year and their connection with my childhood. Realizing that I wouldn’t be able to take a lot of things with me, but having conceived a project about memory, I loaded archival family photographs into a pocket projector and broadcast it in the dark, as my family did many years ago.

I see how memory works selectively and deceptively (like photographs): some events are documented, others seem to be thrown away as unnecessary. Our own memories are set to “normal”: everything was fine with us because we smiled in the photo, and nothing else happened. Archival photography, being a document that we have come to trust, seems to indicate what exactly we should remember. By recording only joyful moments of unity with loved ones, it seems that we want to cut off everything else that is unworthy of remaining in memory and in the frame.

I see loving people in photographs, but I also remember what is not directly in the photographs: the poorly hidden depression of loved ones, the slow increase in loneliness within a close-knit family. As a result, the family archive consists of captured moments. that everyone (does not) remember in their own way.