Photography 647

 I used to think the problem with photography was taking the photograph. Exposure. Timing. Courage. Being there. But eventually I realized the real problem comes later, when the photograph enters civilization. Printing costs. Storage. Framing. Shipping. Archival sleeves. Cloud subscriptions. Compression artifacts. Books nobody buys. Entire forests processed into limited editions that sit face-out in museum gift shops beside postcards of better-known suffering. At some point I began wondering whether the photograph itself was the least necessary part of photography. This was initially a financial observation, which is dangerous, because many conceptual art projects begin as budgeting problems and then retroactively acquire philosophy. I wanted to avoid that. I did not want to become the artistic equivalent of someone calling an empty refrigerator “minimalism.” So the project became more ambitious and therefore more absurd. I decided to make a photography book without photographs. No...

  Footnotes , Et Tu Google? What used to be simple has become another moving target. Footnotes — one of the oldest, cleanest tools in writing — have been folded, renamed, and shuffled into something called page elements , as if clarity itself needed rebranding. In theory, this is “streamlining.” In practice, it’s the familiar modern ritual: endless tinkering disguised as progress. You open a document expecting a basic function that has existed in word processors for decades. Instead, you find that the interface has quietly rearranged itself overnight. The button you learned yesterday is gone today. The system insists it is still there — somewhere — just under a different label, in a different menu, behind a different logic. And so the burden shifts from writing to hunting. This is not innovation. It is administrative drift. We are living inside a broader cultural habit: every stable tool must be periodically destabilized so that improvement can be declared. Nothing is all...