On February 2023, I lost my closest friend, who was not just a friend, but also a soulmate, someone who walked with me the longest and the most intense way and probably has a profound influence on the person I am today, the way I act, think and see the world. 

The last two pictures I took of him were our last moments together, just before I left Tel-Aviv.
Two months later, he passed away.

Sometimes I feel like we’re just walking traumas, carrying our holes around and trying to hold on and pass another day. I’ve never experienced such loss, which probably changed me forever.

This farewell immediately influenced how I view my past works and approach the future. It’s not that I didn’t know our life here is temporary, but it’s more the idea that it is here, I can see it in front of me, and I live it every moment.

Every time we encounter someone, it might be the last time we’ll ever see him. Family, friends, partners, colleagues, and strangers are all fading out in front of us while we’re fading out as well, without even noticing it.

We all see the world the way we want, or more correctly, the way we’ve been trained to. Each of us wears his own billion masks while others look at us and decide how to interpret our masks according to their own world of values. 

I’m not sure we can ever see the world as it is.

My biggest challenge is to catch and frame the world while many of its masks are off, or more likely, when I can notice them less.

But after all, the moment I took the camera and framed it in the way I wanted - The masks and the manipulation moved to my hands, which made it impossible to remain authentic; I’d already defiled it.

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This series is a farewell for everyone; it Is a moment of me deciding to observe, notice, try to see things as they are, even though it is impossible, and find myself in something that’s already gone.

In Memory of
Idan Korenblum
1988 - 2023