© Zak R. Dimitrov 2019

Branches of a Tree in Winter

Photography is a medium of love and loss. As Carol Mavor suggests, the photograph is an amorous catastrophe, severed from time, yet loved for holding time, umbilically connected to its referent. A picture of a lover is stolen from the original like a thin layer of skin. Having been on over 100 dates since I moved to London 4 years ago, I decided to reconnect with my former lovers. We spoke about our time together, why things between us unraveled and how life has been since then. A melancholic journey, the project empowered me to finally come out to my parents after a decade of unspoken truths. The work combines portraits of the men I once desired, stills from LGBT films with typewritten quotes from my partner at the time and relics I have saved as mementos. Branches of a Tree in Winter touches upon nostalgia and retrospect, lost love and times forever gone, but it is also hopeful. After all, these men agreed to collaborate, expecting nothing in return.

Featured on:

Source

Photograd

 

Words by Eugénie Shinkle:

 

­how did we begin.

what were you to me – a profile and a few careless words,

a smile and a possibility,

the touch of a finger on a screen

maybe

 

and in a different time and place, a more decisive gesture

the gaze clinging,

the flicker of a hand on skin

 

hesitate

it’s dark outside

come close

and again

flesh measured against an image – you become

a hand with a fingerprint, a mouth, a scent,

a face and a familiar outline and a rush of words,

words after words, afterwards

eyes, all of it

a long look, a lick

the heat of you

all the time in the world in no time at all

I gather scraps to hold you close

a loop of your hair – an olive stone – a train ticket

 

and photographs

the same place we began,

but the image is filled with you now

a smile and a promise

your profile against a background of others

my breath clouds the ground glass

I turn the negative over

and trace your shape with my fingertip,

follow your outline in the emulsion’s raised edge

close but not you

 

so many between you and now.