Drift

The work reveals the conflict between hypervisibility and loss of authenticity. In a world of constant display, disappearance becomes a rare form of freedom. It is a gesture of resistance, where silence is louder than image, and anonymity is a new luxury.

This work captures a state suspended between presence and disappearance. The figure is partially concealed by its own gesture and partially dissolved into a stream of feathers and smoke. It is neither a classical portrait nor a study of the body as form; rather, it is a visual meditation on the fragile boundary between the self and the surrounding space.

The feathers function not as symbols of lightness, but as traces of a recent presence, remnants of movement, fragments of a quiet transformation. They suggest an archaeology of the moment, as if reality had shed its outer layer, leaving only particles of memory. Here, echoes of European vanitas intersect with the Japanese principle of mono no aware, the awareness of impermanence. Beauty exists only for as long as it is allowed to vanish.

The black-and-white palette removes the image from a specific time or geography. The tonal range is constructed so that light does not reveal, but erases, turning the body into a relief of shadow. What remains is the impression that the image is not offering itself to the viewer, but gradually withdrawing like a slow, visual exhale.

In an era of hyper-visibility and curated identity, this work chooses disappearance as a form of resistance. The body is not presented as an object of desire, nor as a tool of representation. It becomes a transitional state between flesh and air, between being seen and being forgotten.

This is not a narrative. It is a rupture, silent, weightless, and deliberate between the impulse to be witnessed and the urge to dissolve. It is within that rupture that the work truly exists.