I left the garden and went to the pool, I plunged in. For moments, the liquid became denser, difficult lo penetrate, I heard that crak! and I woke up, I was sitting on the railing of the bridge, my hands interlaced behind the nape of my neck and down came up. I did not know how long I’d been submerged in that lethargy and not even if I had closed the studio door.

What do dreams smell of?

Juan Uslé

‘In photography, the observer’s obsession is channelled through a gaze eager for smells and lights, linking the abstract with the real, enriching the landscape from an intimate perspective. These flashes of the everyday exist by way of the light and the darkness, to convey the sensation and the essence of an incomplete journey, of a tireless search.’

De Llerana y Grammarland, Galeria Joan Prats, 2001