January 10th 2024


My method for crafting digital paintings is, I confess, a rather humble and peculiar one. Whenever I chance upon a photograph of my own making—one marred by insufficiency of light, blurred into obscurity, or rendered faulty by some other misstep—it becomes not a castaway, but a treasure of potential. These imperfect captures find their way into what I whimsically term my "play file," wherein they are granted a second life. From these flawed images, I conjure my digital creations, sometimes drawing only the faintest thread of inspiration, and at other times striving to reconstruct the very essence of the scene as it appeared in the vision of my mind's eye—a vision which, alas, the photograph could not faithfully convey.


Every dead photo is a mortal wound to my soul—a grievous gash in the fabric of my aspirations, a moment of lost potential slipping irretrievably into the void. Yet, I am not one to surrender so easily to despair; I grapple with these failures, striving desperately to breathe life anew into what was almost lost, to reclaim the beauty or truth that eluded my first attempt.



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