On 6 June 1944, thousands of men fought on five beaches once codenamed Utah, Omaha, Gold, Juno and Sword. A year later, the war in Europe would end. The project covers these beaches in a series in which passers-by, bathers and sunsets coexist with the metallic structures that remain, like ancient monuments of our wartime past, which make us understand how certain events articulate new meanings in the landscape.

The Normandy landings marked the beginning of the end of the II World War, an important event engraved in the memory of the 20th century. But what happens when a place becomes part of history, and can the landscape retain its memory?

The space portrayed by the photographer contains a crack linked to our past. Latent like the vestige of a wound, it attracts the attention of both the photographer and the spectator because intuiting the ruins of a battle from the present also brings us face to face with its ghosts.

All this is a reflection on the weight and the trace of the history that has been trapped in the light of those beaches, where thousands of men stumbled upon an inferno of mines and gunfire that generated confusion of thousands of dead who have remained linked to the constant crashing of the waves. When you look closely at those beaches through a camera, you perceive a tremor that transcends the visual because photography, using the poetics of the contemplation of the place, makes us participants in our history.

When an engineering feat like the Winston Harbor becomes a memory within the landscape of the French coast, it seems that beyond its utility, there is an unfinished conversation with our past, something that invites us to remember. If you take the time to contemplate the concrete structures, they seem to speak to each other in a language of their own that we cannot hear because the algae muffle it. Like a cluster of blackberries floating in the sea, this artificial harbour observes the coast with the dignity of having served in favour of victory. Mulberry Harbour facilitated the supply to the Allied troops, where 2.5 million men, 500,000 vehicles, and 4 million tons of provisions were unloaded, necessary to sustain Operation Overlord and supply the Allied forces all the way to Berlin.

But what happens to this landscape altered by history today? The photographer answers this question through careful observation and a detailed study of light. The appearance of a shipwreck is fiction because the photographic distance gives these images a drifting dreamlike quality that the viewer must anchor to their memory to understand the echo of the last great war individually.