NEITHER HERE NOR THERE. ‘Neither Here Nor There’ is a visual diary, a collection of personal observations and thoughts enclosed in a photographic artist book. The series of images combine with text and poetry and respond to my need of expressing what I find difficult to speak about, because I am afraid of or uncomfortable to confront with. The sea is a recurring theme in this diary, and it is evoked in the book’s tactile cover as well as in the book’s design and binding. The pages’ rhythmic movement recalls the movements of the waves to combine with the flow of the images. The past two years have been a challenging time for myself and my family members; we could not reunite with our relatives back in our home country, the health conditions of my parents were rapidly deteriorating and the world in general seemed, and still is to me, more than ever, ruled by unpredictable forces aimed to bring uncertainty to its people rather than unity. My photographic book explores, with a meditative approach, the impact of these challenging times on myself and my family members. This book is to me an intimate journey, a personal process of recollection of thoughts in search for clarity and acceptance. Within this state of mind of being in constant conflict with the space I am surrounded with, I go back to my origins, my culture and the simple moments of my life that have always reassured me and have forged me in the person that I am, making me questioning the choice of raising my children in a country that is isolated from the compassionate affection of an inclusive family and distant from the warmth and far-reaching benevolence of a country that I call ‘home’. Generally, in a world that seems constantly depriving its people from the serenity of a peaceful moment. As I explore the landscape of my past I contend with a personal conflict of the seemingly objective reality before me, as opposed to the subjective truth of my memories. The British writer and novelist Joseph Conrad wrote, ‘The sea has never been friendly to man. At most it is the accomplice of human restlessness’. It is this feeling of being constantly shifted by the tide, of floating back and forth without ever reaching the shore that is dominant in my imagery. The sea is to me the symbol of the distance from Europe, a geographical border between me and my home country: a site of inquietudo, a transcendental state of being that becomes the beholder of my memories, of my dreams, the comfort of my family’s ties while it also acts as a reminder of their absence. I question these fleeting moments and my fragilities through the observation of my own children. The narrative sits with the day-by-day events, the intensity of the relationship between each other and the legacy of our origins. As the time passes, moments of transitions and displacement, both physical and psychological, are instinctively captured by my medium format film camera, while my family members are framed in their candid moods, in a hypnotic state of observation that aims to screen the background noises. Familiar and unfamiliar places metaphorically represent mine and my children’s thoughts in a process of reconciliation with the complexity of our living and the challenges that most of the youngsters need to face today. As I explore the landscape of their youth, I sit in admiration of my children’s resilience, awareness, their receptive patience and their sensible acknowledgement of the space they are living in. A sensibility which is grounded in their roots and that would fulfil their grandmother’s dreams, if only she could see them.