Strolling in Valletta I came across a group of construction workers that were heartily arguing on what they should do with some furniture abandoned in a home by the harbour, that was scheduled to be demolished that same morning. The person who lived there had died a few month earlier and most of his stuff was still there, since the heirs couldn’t care less.
I asked if I could have a look and rubbish it was, but still there was a sense of a place: undeniably someone had had is home there.
I entered a negotiation and for petty cash it was agreed that they would start by tearing down the street facade, preserving the front room, as far as the building structure would allow it.
The result revealed details I hadn’t expected, such as the liquor bottles still in cupboard.
Such an intimist view would be incompatible with Gordon Matta-Clark work, but I can’t deny he came to my mind while the “controlled” demolition was still underway.