When I capture a photograph, especially of familiar subjects like a sunset, I engage in a ritual with my camera's focus. I deliberately blur the image to the point of abstraction, then gradually bring it back into the faintest legibility. This practice explores the threshold of perception—the moment when an image is no longer immediately recognizable yet still retains its essence. This methodology seeks to identify the "common denominator" of visual recognition: how much information is necessary for an image to convey meaning while resisting immediate identification.

This inquiry emerges from a broader challenge in contemporary visual culture. Audiences today, inundated with images, have developed a sophisticated visual literacy that makes recognition almost instantaneous. My aim is to present familiar subjects in ways that disrupt this automatic reading, compelling viewers to engage with the image differently while retaining its intrinsic qualities. Beyond this disruption of recognition, I am captivated by the effects of blurring on color. When an image is blurred—particularly when direct light is present—colors seem to expand, breathe, and momentarily intensify. This phenomenon, which I describe as "bloom" creates a transient yet profound moment of visual excess that tries to compensate for the many moments of endurance, mediocrity and boredom that reality entails.