I grab my cell phone, but it doesn’t recognize my fingerprints when I try to unlock it. I move to my computer—it doesn’t work either. I try my tablet, and the same thing happens. Frustrated, I enter my PIN. I realize I go through this often—whether at the airport going through immigration, renewing my passport, or resting my finger on the scanner at work to open the door. What would happen if my fingerprints disappeared? I piece this idea together and reassure myself whenever I think about it. “Yes, this is how it is.” Those lines that identify a person today will no longer exist. And I’m going to be one of those cases. I ask myself countless questions, and the most crucial of all is: if I die and they need to identify my body, how would they do it? Once you create your own myth, it is difficult—though not impossible—to unravel it.
That’s why I created a kind of road movie over the course of five years, with the “movie,” in this case, being photographic.
During that time, I photographed places, spaces, and areas, and with each capture, my fingerprints seemed to lose their style and essence. What defines your identity? Is it what you are? What you will become? Who would I be without fingerprints? Today, I decided to hold on. Holding on is what I can touch. That instinctive act becomes my signature in the photographs. And my photographs are defined by the sensory impressions they leave behind and will continue to resonate.
We invite you to experiment with music
We have selected songs designed to inspire you and boost your creativity, connecting you with emotions and perspectives you may not have explored yet. Find a quiet place, put on your headphones, and listen to the songs. Observe how your ideas evolve and experience Touch.
