Roland Barthes in one of the most vulnerable moments in his authoritative book on Photography (Camera Lucida) describes in a so "unlike-him" touching way, the "old photos in the trunk" nostalgic, melancholic trance.
"There I was, alone in the apartment where she had died, looking at these pictures of my mother, one by one under the lamp, gradually moving back in time with her, looking for the truth of the face I had loved. And I found it."
Gina Maragoudaki is creating the same temporal paradox but only today, now. Her trenchant portraits are touched with pathos.
It may seem at first reading a theatricalization of the real. But Gina knows (feels) that something like that would be redundant. And she is delivering something that in itself is the ultimate sacrifice of the artist.
Her honest, uncrafted vision of the "memento mori".