You could even die for not being a real couple
There is a kind of photography that reveals the spirit of a place, hurls itself at its prey, the great feast expecting only to be rent asunder. Images are complicit in this, fully exposing anyone who persists in hunting down the mockery of the photograph. Within a rather kitsch Kurdish setting, sensuality is shown interrogating the sexual and social conventions of a failed marriage. Laura Lafon voyages around that reinvented world with one thought in mind: love. In a trance, she enters the scene as an intruder, like a fire dancer, seeking to provoke us visually and to confront her own face with its ‘wildly’ lit hair and its shadowy exoticism. Its abrupt immediacy assaults our senses like a deep sky-dive or a brutal tidal wave.
Thus, narrative energy re-enchants the world, leaving the Westernised documentary begging for its slice of the pie. Lafon’s work has no self-control; it lives too freely according to the rhythm of an ambivalent language of photography, creating the surprising from a new form of happy, weird irony, made up of games and cruel words, familial intimacy and transitory encounters. And it manifests itself in utopian love. A world of books gradually sets the stage. It refuses the norms of an immorality suppressed within us by the weight of societal constraints; good intentions caught in a trap between ‘modernity’ and respect for traditions, between hard work and packaged tourism, marriage and (non-)sexuality. […] Laura Lafon seeks to understand this disorientation within the gaze of the Other, beyond the deceptive world of appearances.