I don‘t want something to just be aesthetically acceptable. I want to make you feel something, to evoke emotion and bring out thoughts hidden in our common conscience, to give human warmth to cold technology. Design is an extension of one’s identity and social recognition, a carefully cultivated response or reflection attached to objects beyond our being. Influencing behavior at a subliminal level, provoking certain qualities from within that we desire to relate to, it activates our ability to associate things together by communicating connections we may have not otherwise realized or already long forgotten. So when people tell me they are content with simplicity, I wonder where the adventurous ambition is of pushing sensory limits, the insatiable craving to live out any potential perception, the anticipated excitement of witnessing events too momentous for the circumstances.

Self-portraits, like biographies are methods to present one's own description. However the approach of introspective varies, not necessarily deflecting accurately what others gather of the subject in question. Similar to how we may perceive photos or recordings that capture our face and voice, they perhaps feel alien when proven to not align with the identity we've established for ourselves. Or even, the medium assigned to capture its essence doesn't fully realize the texture and timbre as well rounded as our senses do; for example a white shirt basked under colored lights will be registered by the values absorbed. Compared to illustrations that may more or less have the creator's own aesthetics and ideals, a camera has no such bias. The lens unhesitatingly takes note of exact exposure, and despite it's worth noting that technological limitations indeed may result in a somewhat loss of quality, for better or for worse it provides us a safe space to examine reality without excessive post-production sugarcoating.

Yet when duckface expressions and snapchat filters are the norm, I find these carbon copies everyone else can just as easily obtain disruptive. You can't gauge the sparkle in their eyes, the crinkle in their noses, the slight wrinkles around their mouth from their lively expressions. The same rule applies for publicly displayed artworks titled "No. XX" or "Unknown"; personally I find it more precious to have the individual interpret what they see for themselves, rather than feeding them a description and thus limiting their imaginative understanding of the piece. Leaves a lot more room for discussion and analysis based off one's experience, rather than resorting to the defined inspiration. I pay attention beyond my face intentionally for that reason, there's an entire canvas at one's disposal to take advantage of, to further provide cues into a story that curiosity demands to make some understanding of. If a picture is worth a thousand words, I don't want it to be a steady stream that's perfectly paced, but rather come crashing down at once like a waterfall, instantaneously drowning the audience followed by eventual submersion.

This why I strive to play more with a senseless smile. I don't deny for the sake of context smiling may be preferred upon occasion’s request, as depicted in Mona Lisa or portrait paintings of regality. Indeed, they emit serenity and an air of dignity, but in my opinion it's missing a pulse and authenticity once replaced with sublimity. They become statues poised in elaborate settings, without much character besides the hints you additionally perceive from extravagant clothing and adorned furniture. It doesn't satisfy me, this specimen like house arrest from countless pairs of unforgiving eyes, silently scrutinized under direct gaze's mercy. It's no equal to a live beast struggling in its cage, you feeling the rattle of metal bars to be as powerful as the agony and panic vibrating within that heartbeat on overdrive. If you compare Peter Paul Rubens and Francisco Goya's take on 'Saturn Devouring His Son", you will find the latter to drastically hit you with everything at once, brute force. You don't know where to look in this juxtaposition, be it his deranged bloodlust and twisted emergence from perhaps a tame kneeling position, or the succumbing submission and tearing of animated flesh in his desperate grasp. Thrown into a state of confusion with this layout presented in front of you, the terror seemingly jumps out the frame and bleeds into the space you're occupied in. I favor the spirit of experimentation, and hope to similarly break that barrier between observant and participant.