“A writer maps psychic areas.
And like any explorer he runs the risk of being unable to return.”
William S. Burroughs
(Introduction to Jacques Stern’s The Fluke, 1959, Private Edition)
I spend a lot of time exploring maps. I like to get lost in them, always hoping for some unexpected story to come my way.
Online cartographic data, such as those provided by Google Earth, Google Maps and Google Street View, have become essential investigative tools in my artistic and literary works.
From the start I have been intrigued by Google's obsessive-compulsive desire to cover or, rather, uncover, all aspects of the world, in meticulous detail. What do these surveillance images tell us about our daily lives? How do they affect our perception of reality? What do they reveal about wars, or extreme violence, in some remote regions of the globe? These are some of the questions I raise in my work.
I'm impressed by the extraordinary documentary value of those automatically generated, authorless, images of the world. Over time, I learned to apprehend them with the obstinacy of a forensic analyst. Albeit, I assume that my approach to geo-intelligence is highly unorthodox. I'd rather consider it as a form of forensic story-telling, in a grey-zone between reality and fiction.
My productions take on a variety of forms, including photography, drawing, video-installation, audio-investigation, travelogue, poetry and novel. From project to project, the first challenge is always to identify the most effective medium for the story to be told. I always start out with creating data files, archives and atlases.
When I work on a story, the end result, i.e. the resolution of a case, is not necessarily what matters most to me. The erratic process of searching for truth interests me more than the truth itself, which is often unfindable anyway.
I live and work in Luxembourg.
As many of my projects have a legal, social or geopolitical dimension, I regularly collaborate with my twin sister Elisabeth Krecké, who is an economist.
Carine Krecké, 2022