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Reflections

A softly lit, gently curled hand emerges from deep shadow against a dark, moody background, fingers relaxed and slightly parted, evoking a vintage, film-grain aesthetic.
Behind the scenes
Beyond the frame of reality

Getting exactly the shot I envisioned gave me the feeling of finally accessing the palette of my dreams. The moving image became a malleable and infinitely more accessible medium. This technological shift reminds me of a strong historical parallel: the Impressionists.
A single empty theater seat sits alone in the middle of a vast, empty movie theater floor, facing a blank glowing white screen, with the rest of the cavernous room stripped of all other seating and lit only by dim exit signs.
Reflection
The Quiet fragmentation of what we shared

There is a thought I cannot put down lately: one of the things we are not talking about enough is the fragmentation of shared collective experiences...
A tall, mirrored monolith stands in a windswept desert, casting a long shadow across the sand under a pale blue-grey sky, with wisps of dust blowing past its base.
Reflection
Location without addresses

AI doesn't imitate reality. It inhabits the space where reality wasn't.
Two giant hands position miniature action figures of a woman with long wavy red hair in a dark trench coat and a man with dark hair in an open dark suit, standing on a small mound of sand. One hand pours a stream of sand from its fingers behind the male figure, evoking an hourglass. Dramatic single-source lighting against a black background.
Behind the scenes
The Puppeteer and the Machine

For a long time, I refused AI. Not on principle. Not out of ignorance. Out of fear. The fear that everything I had spent 25 years learning, how to read light, how to feel a cut, how to understand what a face does to an image, would suddenly become worthless.