A Day with No Name is an ongoing photographic series that began during the first months of the Covid-19 pandemic — a moment when the illusion of everyday order quietly cracked.
Shot mainly in monochrome, the images stage ambiguous scenes where female characters inhabit fragmented interiors, caught in gestures that hover between suspicion, witness, and silent resistance. These photographs borrow the codes of crime scenes, yet refuse any clear narrative. Instead, they frame a space for doubt — inviting viewers to assemble their own version of events, based on personal histories, identity, and unconscious fears.
Conceived as a visual investigation into unseen forces — authority, power, complicity — this series questions how violence can be masked by the ordinary. Shadows, hands, vacant rooms become psychological landscapes, shifting between reality and projection.
A Day with No Name is the prelude to Trust Me, and remains an evolving body of work. As I move between cities and contexts, the project grows with new clues, new suspicions.
Rather than offering fixed answers, it becomes a rare collection of visual enigmas — an invitation to engage with the invisible architectures that govern both images and relationships.
