1986 – Mid-1990s
I began not as a photographer, but as a scavenger. My first images were simply raw material—friends, often reluctant, posing nude so I could cut them out and reassemble them into new forms on 20x15cm sheets. The photograph itself was never the destination; it was the ore I mined.
I would dramatically enlarge these collages using a large-format photocopier, feeding 90cm-wide paper rolls that stretched for meters. These became my canvases. I mounted them on wood or tarred paper and attacked the surface with solvents, oil paints, pencils, and charcoal. Photography was not an end, but a tool—a foundation upon which I could paint, scratch, and dissolve, pushing the medium until it bled into other artistic languages.
