Hotel Bamer

This article was originally published in Domus México 04, December 2012 / January 2013

The first time I visited Hotel Bamer was in 2005 and I immediately wanted to photograph it. I felt as if I was entering a time machine — all modern ruins with 1950s-60s' carpets, furniture and wallpaper. Some rooms had been refurbished before that and their subdued, dull decoration heightened the contrast between the periods.

The hotel closed its doors in 2006 and the building was sold. It remained empty in the following years, its history suspended in time and hanging in the balance between a past that had ended in ruins and an uncertain future. That is when I had the opportunity to photograph it.

Spending many hours alone in this abandoned space initially felt strange as it contained only signs of objects and the people that had once lived there: a mark on a wall where a painting had hung; footprints on the Bamerette dance floor that seemed to be dancing to the rhythm of the music; and the outline on the carpet where a bed had stood.

I gradually got to know every corner and observe the slow deterioration of the interiors. Time had become an invisible presence in this space and, with the passing months, this presence became tangible: an open window had caused damage to a carpet; the damp had opened a hole in the ceiling of a room; and the dust added new layers and designs to the previous ones.

The photographs speak of the passing of time in this space, which now only lives on its memory. The sense of absence was almost palpable, a void that the pictures make visible. Alejandra Laviada, photographer