The green depth of grass in old images always seems a little deeper than the reality.

I find myself looking at me standing in an ocean of vibrant green.  

I look at myself looking back at me

Me looking at me looking back at me.

Me, green

Me, green 

This image is not a portrait or a representation, it's a confrontation. 

There are countless photos of me in a field I found on different pages. 

There are many depictions of me I do not recognize. 

It seems this child is living a different existence than I do. 

The modern archive in this form becomes the avatar, the extension of the self?

I question self.

That live dematerialized,

I sit and question which one I am, if any at all. 

Many exist similarly, with infinite representations of their face.

But is that our existence or infinite other ‘lives.’ 

To come to terms with my face living a different journey over and over again is still a trial. 

I find my face and then drunken men.

I am neither, I am both. 

Yet these images in actuality are quite mediocre, and that is where my work begins. 

The mediocre image as a vessel of understanding, or the beginning of an understanding at least.

To live simultaneously for infinity in the field of mediocre.

Me, mediocre, 

Me, green

self portrait as a computer 2025