Time
Time is the continued sequence of existence and events that occurs in an apparently irreversible succession from the past, through the present, into the future.
Time is a series of illustrations that came together as a booklet—an exploration of time, its feeling, and materiality.
The booklet traveled with me from city to city, waiting for its moment on the bookshelf—and it always felt like something was missing for it to be truly complete. I tried photographing the pages, but the images lost their depth; the paper looked flat, and the atmosphere disappeared.
Three years later, I decided to try something different—not to photograph, but to scan. My first attempt at a print shop turned out too sterile: the scans were too clean, too digital, as if the images had been exported directly from graphic software.
The final look was given to the project by an old, battered HP ScanJet 2400 scanner that friends found on the street. It creaks and runs on archaic software, but its imperfections left real traces of time on the scans—broken pixels, scratches, soft noise, the marks of dust and years gone by. Now, the booklet doesn’t just speak about time; it literally contains its traces in every illustration.
Time is a way to feel time not only with your eyes, but through the scanner’s artifacts and the “errors” of the technology itself.
Time is the continued sequence of existence and events that occurs in an apparently irreversible succession from the past, through the present, into the future.
Time is a series of illustrations that came together as a booklet—an exploration of time, its feeling, and materiality.
The booklet traveled with me from city to city, waiting for its moment on the bookshelf—and it always felt like something was missing for it to be truly complete. I tried photographing the pages, but the images lost their depth; the paper looked flat, and the atmosphere disappeared.
Three years later, I decided to try something different—not to photograph, but to scan. My first attempt at a print shop turned out too sterile: the scans were too clean, too digital, as if the images had been exported directly from graphic software.
The final look was given to the project by an old, battered HP ScanJet 2400 scanner that friends found on the street. It creaks and runs on archaic software, but its imperfections left real traces of time on the scans—broken pixels, scratches, soft noise, the marks of dust and years gone by. Now, the booklet doesn’t just speak about time; it literally contains its traces in every illustration.
Time is a way to feel time not only with your eyes, but through the scanner’s artifacts and the “errors” of the technology itself.