In 2014 I started to collect old pictures from flea markets. I was mainly looking for male group portraits in order to analyze the complex relationship between a single man and the masses. I slaved away trying to understand more about these characters and their narratives. One day, I noticed that there was always a person that didn’t fit in the scene: the weaker one. A man hiding behind another, a kid looking at some lost point, or a boy with an uncomfortable posture. Pretending to be normal, that person was losing his real presence in the frame, fading away, vanishing.
That feeling was familiar. It was the shame of being different and the need to be invisible. It was imperative to remain unnoticed.
Noiseless is a celebration of the person whose features no one can recall. A tribute to the weaker man: that guy who was never able to express — or understand — his condition; that kid who ended up pretending to seem normal his whole life.
For the fear of losing everything, these men could never raise their voices against the system, and so they just disappeared, erased by time.