This line got me: “Photography is not just a document, but also a way of shifting, frustrating, refracting our ways of seeing.” That’s exactly how it felt reading this—and imagining the gallery space through your eyes.
What stuck most was your final meditation on tactility. We’re so inundated by frictionless image-making now—AI, auto-enhance, endless scroll—that the works you describe (Seriki, Krajnak, Weiner) feel like rebellion. Not just because of what they depict, but how they insist on materiality. Threads. Bleach. Broken glass. Things that hold time differently.
I’ve been building AI systems trained on my own work, and even at their best, they lack… bruises. Smudges. That sense of soul that arises not just from the final image but from the struggle of making it. Reading this made me long for that friction again. The gallery light. The surprise. The weight of presence.
Thank you for writing this. It reminded me that art is not only seen, but felt through the body.
This line got me: “Photography is not just a document, but also a way of shifting, frustrating, refracting our ways of seeing.” That’s exactly how it felt reading this—and imagining the gallery space through your eyes.
What stuck most was your final meditation on tactility. We’re so inundated by frictionless image-making now—AI, auto-enhance, endless scroll—that the works you describe (Seriki, Krajnak, Weiner) feel like rebellion. Not just because of what they depict, but how they insist on materiality. Threads. Bleach. Broken glass. Things that hold time differently.
I’ve been building AI systems trained on my own work, and even at their best, they lack… bruises. Smudges. That sense of soul that arises not just from the final image but from the struggle of making it. Reading this made me long for that friction again. The gallery light. The surprise. The weight of presence.
Thank you for writing this. It reminded me that art is not only seen, but felt through the body.