Tears in Rain is a series of books documenting moments of life channeled through one person, or a group united by a common goal. Shot up-close by Benjamin Deberdt, in a documentary style that allows magic to shine through. Developed specifically for Tokyo based publisher SuperLabo, Tears in Rain follows a loose format according to each theme, character or moment documented, illustrating how Benjamin chose to capture it at the time, providing a details charged glimpse into long gone instants that may be remembered and cherished today, or just vanished in the endless stream of “content”. This also doubles as a study into his very own practice of visual recording of individual stories – and perhaps history – in the making. Providing a reflection of his own practice of photography or even a self-portrait in negative… Tears in Rain #1 tells partial story of a Mark Gonzales exhibition in Paris in the autumn of 1999. At the time, Mark was exploring more facets of his never-ending creativity with the first sculptural fabrication of his already beloved “Schmoo”. That strangely human yet trait less character was finally attaining a third dimension, doing so without loosing any power of identification. As a local friend, Benjamin heard from Aaron Rose that he was coming over to help Mark set it all up at the Purple Institute. Luck had it that the space was a stroll away from the office of Sugar skateboard magazine, where Benjamin Deberdt was editor-in-chief. Hence, a couple of visits before the show, and three rolls of films – spent on what would most likely not be an article for any publication – gave Benjamin the chance to make up for the first time he met Mark Gonzales sited on the wooden floors of Harmony Korine's apartment on Spring St in NYC. That was in the spring of 1996, and Benjamin was way too shy –or dumb– to even get his camera out. After all, Mark Gonzales was his skateboard hero. Even if he was offering expensive candy, and happy to talk about his own love story with Paris… This time, a re-arrangement of the paintings, suddenly all lined up at a child eye-level to Mark’s specifications, or cut-out workshop with fellow artist Susan Cianciolo would get a frame of celluloid, or two. Or more…