We are oversaturated with visual perceptions and stimuli. They attack us from around every corner, lure us and pull our gazes, flow into us from an infinite number of screens. We find in them the culprit of the distraction of our attention, the feeling of wasted time and any dissatisfaction in our lives. We get carried away with them on endless escalators of trends that take us nowhere. The logical counter-movement is then stopping the view, slowing down the time, fixing the frame, turning off the zoom. We apply the emergency brake and, despite the interest in the necessary minimum of basic communication or imaging procedures, we get not only the essence of photography or photographic effect, but also the tangibly beautiful, which we are not afraid to relate to (despite all the overcrowding and cynicism). Conscious use of the simplest photographic principles (such as shallow depth of field) seems to paradoxically return lost contours to photography. Maybe it's time to bring the term "photogeny" back into play. Give it new contents. For example, touching by sight.

In 1610, Galileo Galilei first noticed astral bodies surrounding Saturn, not aware of their ring-like nature at his time. Astronomers that came after him have gained more and more knowledge of the Saturn’s Rings, observing them with telescopes and other scientific and more complex instruments. Ever since then, our imagination was shaped by technological development that allowed us to see things we were not able to see with the naked eye. The same applies to other phenomena like cellular science or atoms. We are all aware of their influence on our everyday life. And yet, can we say that we experience them consciously? The distance between a person and an object is no longer counted in miles or millimeters, but in the level of technology and number of tools that shape its image before it’s presented to us. How much of the original footprint is left in a photograph, after it has been processed? We have always watched, given names and interpreted the skies… but was it the same sky? There is a very delicate border between our observation and our imagination.