10 PPI Mulch

A pixel – the smallest element of visual information, has a paradoxical function, to join and to separate at the same time. With enough resolution and detail, it creates an image by accumulation. Yet when the pixel becomes distinct, and elementary, it distorts the image, breaking it down to its most rudimentary composition of shapes and colors. When an image lacks clarity, we say that it is pixelated, forgetting that they are all pixelated.

Each photo's description highlights what Roland Barthes termed as the ‘punctum’ — a specific visual detail in the image that holds personal meaning. However, when the images are viewed collectively, it shifts viewers' gaze to the thematic coherence that emerges from the seemingly arbitrary arrangement of pixels. The punctum for the viewer, therefore becomes the composition itself.

In this series, I explore how pixelation serves as a metaphor for describing someone you've never met. Just as attempting to capture a person's essence through second-hand description often falls short of truly understanding their identity, pixelated images strip away the clarity and fidelity of the original scene. These denatured family photos serve as a visual manifestation of the impersonalisation inherent in sharing these intimate moments. Whether you can discern specific visual details of my family in the photos is inconsequential when I describe the scene myself. The clarity of the photos, therefore, becomes irrelevant.