Artist statement

When I approach my camera I never know what will happen next. Even when I have an idea, a project, a series on my mind. Even when I get this itching inside me that tells me, it is coming, a photograph is about to reveal. Even then everything can happen to me, I am not protected from anything, I am ready to nothing, I capitulate in advance.

This gap between the reality and its photo representation is a rabbit hole I cannot help slipping into. I’m mesmerised by my power to transform something normal, familiar to everyone’s eye — into something extraordinary, something no one, not even me, has ever seen before; into an eye wonder. Into something that simply didn’t exist before I first saw it.

It’s the sense of my humble wonderment over the camera’s ethereal powers that makes me keep experimenting with long exposure, surrealism in pictures, deconstructing common shapes and traits.

Using extremely long exposures I try to test the reality, I give it more time to manifest itself, to show up. I pretend that I turned away and got out of the room, and I leave my camera to spy for me — when I’m back it will tell me what was happening to the -real- when I didn’t witness it.

This wondrous trick the camera does with the reality works for me as an evidence of the divine and the mundane co-presence in our life. Can the artist ever get a larger reward than this sort of evidence?