Once, images were torn and glued onto paper.
Truth became a fragmented mirror,
and Duchamp’s urinal waved the flag of art’s collapse.
Signs of amorality transcended eras.
Materialism and hedonism
took shelter under the roof of postmodernism.
Diversity, equity, and inclusion
were wrapped in the language of deconstruction,
while artificial intelligence crept in—
siphoning the lifeblood of data.
For 35 years, I carried the weight of facts
through the lens of photojournalism,
seeking to illuminate reality.
But now I realize
that even truth-telling can wear the mask of bias.
So now, I choose to become a window, not a mirror.
Through the minuscule and invisible world of insects,
I search for truths beyond the surface of the real.
My lens no longer only documents.
It becomes a fable that pierces through the absurdities of this era.
With my own montages—
stitched from history and metaphor—
I expose the face of the specter
that devours the future in the name of the past.