augmented illusions

The photographing is taking on a different significance as a means of interpreting the world. From gesture to eye, it used to be, and I felt myself carried along on the top of a wave for a long time, while my visual memory held out. But now, as my brain is being re-made to be other-sensory, it is being filled up with other perception, the other senses, it is losing sight and the visual. How bitter that is to me. Yet there is the thrill of discovery too, territory to be explored, ground to be covered. If I touch something, it is there, if I photograph it, it has no existence, the photograph is a file, a line of text my computer reads to me, or a rectangular piece of paper; it does not represent my touch, it shows nobody anything of what I perceive. How touch can be electrifying, sending shivers down my spine at the depth of information it gives me. I know that my gestures have become different, that how I touch things has become different. Early lessons taught me to start to touch anything with the back of the hand first. Now my fingers start to work differently, because they feed a much more subtle perception. As they become more skilled at their task, sight and its attributes are fading fast from the mental landscape. There’s an absence, like the absence of everything that is outside the sighted field of perception: what is behind us is not in our consciousness, but sound is all around me: 360 degree perception. The sun and the wind on my skin, what it sounds like as open space gives way to the wall of a façade on one side, creating a dead sound, a hole in the sound. How the sound of rain makes space audible, so vividly that it becomes something visual, yet unseen.