Heliography Project 1827–2027: The Materialization of the Digital
I use the oldest photographic process to preserve moments that one machine captured by chance and another has long since forgotten.
Venice, April 2013. Photographer. Heliography, September 2024. Exposure: six hours of sunlight. Unique. ↗ 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.
Tokyo, May 2015. The Wanderer. Heliography, September 2023. Exposure: six hours of sunlight. Unique. Google Street View has been deleted – this is the last image.
Theory & Discourse
The Spectrum of the Real – Indexicality, Authorship, and the Limits of Photographic Knowledge
In my accompanying essay, I explore the philosophical questions behind the Heliography Project. What does an image prove when it is seen by a machine and fixed on asphalt by me?
[ → Read the essay in English (Medium) ]
Growing Archive · 2023–2027
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:
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