We normally spend up to 1/3 of our lives in our beds. Yet, our bedrooms are the first ones we shut and lock away when we have a visitor. It is such an intimate part or our lives, that even when we were children and our parents invites us to their rooms, we hesitated. I invite you to reflect on such a commonplace item that takes a huge part of our lives and give it a second glimpse, recognizing our bedrooms and beds as sacred lairs.

Making my bed is a project which comprises an obsessive and repetitive process of photographing all the beds I have spent time in. While registering this, I´m creating self-portraits, realizing and exposing myself in the most intimate moments, denuding myself in front of the viewer and suggesting thoughts and reactions about what happened there. Every time I look in one of these pictures, I´m transported back to that place and time with all the fears and joys which there took place, creating a mental image of everything I spent there. When I photograph it, I capture the essence of the moment and explore the energies of the setting, reconnecting myself with the elements of vital force represented in that image.

The bed is fetish, becoming my hallowed altar, the object of devotion where I lay my faith, the center of my room, its respective temple. That's where I lie down and pray, I ask for better days and I thank for the good ones. In each of the beds here photographed I experienced moments of love, pain, sex, joys and sorrows. I have been on the verge of death and have felt dead inside. Symbol of regeneration, of dreams and love, the bed is my energy, my scent, my weight, my warmth in the cold nights, it´s where I can be honest with myself, dealing with my fears and anxieties, making the most secret requests, the most unconfessable desires. Is where I have had earth shattering orgasms and deadly pains.

Over time, it became a metaphor for my life; sometimes, messy, others, unpolluted. Dirty, clean, old, new. This mundane item that sometimes goes unnoticed by the daily glances, provokes me a multiplicity of signifiers, evaluating my own existence; double bed, single bed, king size bed, hotel bed, motel bed. From birth to death, a furniture so prevalent where sleep takes place, can galvanize an explosion of sensations and feelings, immersed in a baffling connotative mist; the sterilized state of a hospital bed, the purifying hygiene of a birthing bed, and the aseptic of a deathbed. Fear of darkness, of incest, of loneliness… the pursuit of liberty, the need for a warm body that breathes and palpitates next to mine. Be it in public or private, it is also the place of departure. Birth, marriage, death - it is my end and my beginning.

The Project