The Mill building is such a gross and hostile construction that it seems to have always excluded human presence. There, all we found are vestiges of people's stealthy and ephemeral passage. It is as if it had never been a work place, a space made to man's measure.

Willi Biondani's photographs, taken in place and enlarged in actual size, seem to catch this ghostly, absent figure. Everything here contributes to abandonment and solitude: water that drops from the roof and accumulates on the ground, the delicate light that infiltrates from above, the musical lament that echoes on everything. The portrayed character inhabits these corners and cracks. Hidden in the holes, inserted between walls, he dimensions the architecture according to his own body. He makes his this place of exclusion and pain.