Heliography Project 1827–2027

I use the the earliest photographic process to preserve moments that one machine captured by chance and another has long since forgotten.

Heliography Unikat Venedig, September 2013, Google Street View, Przemek Zajfert

Venice, April 2013. The image was captured by Google’s cameras. In September 2024, I found the scene, made an internegative, and coated a 10 × 15 cm metal plate with asphalt emulsion. Six hours of sunlight, contact printing process. Single exposure. I titled the heliograph Photographer. Street View still exists.

. . .

I move through Google Street View, searching for moments that were not meant to be seen. When I find one, I translate it into an early photographic process: heliography after Niépce, 1827.

Bitumen on Zinc sheet. Sunlight. Once. No repetition. The material is asphalt—the same substance the street is made of, on which the image was recorded. The street returns to the image.

Many of these moments no longer exist. They have been overwritten or deleted. Each work is unique: one box, one plate, one moment. 1827–2027.

→ About the Heliography Project 1827-2027

Heliographie Unikat Tokio Mai 2015, der Wanderer. Letztes Bild nach Löschung aus Google Street View.

Tokyo, Shibuya, May 2015. The image was captured by Google’s cameras. In September 2023, I found the scene, made an internegative, and at the end of September coated a 10 × 15 cm metal plate with asphalt emulsion. On a sunny day, it was exposed for six hours using the contact printing process. Single exposure. I titled the heliograph The Wanderer. The Street View image has since been deleted—this is the last remaining image.

. . .

Since 2023, an archive

of heliographs, boxes, and texts has been taking shape. Each work is made once — in bitumen, on metal, in sunlight.
For inquiries about works, exhibitions, or the growing archive:
→ Contact