The Maze

J’erre au fond d’un savant et cruel labyrinthe…
Je n’ai pour mon salut qu’un douloureux orgueil.
- Renée Vivien, ​La Vénus des aveugles

The labyrinth build by Daedalus wasn't a dark underground place full of horrors, but was made of palaces, houses and beautiful gardens. The problem wasn’t that the maze was horrible, the problem was the impossibility to get out of it. It seems pretty easy to make a connection with the world around us, everything in which we are immersed, where we live and develop, is a labyrinth.

The anxiety of a Theseus seeking the Minotaur to kill him, is also the anxiety of the man of today who is afraid and in disarray. We are afraid because we do not know. This fear, which often manifests itself by not knowing what to choose, what to do, where to go, and letting the years of his life run in a constant, exhausting and infinitely sad mediocrity.

The Maze is a photographic and melancholic poem that I realized during my wanderings in Bangkok.