Years ago I met a person with a sensory discriminatory disorder called prosopagnosia, which results in the inability to recognize faces.
"It's as if every face is covered by a patina," he explained.
Over time, I've wondered how to interpret this disorder with photography, a language that uses instrumentation that, like an enhancement prosthesis, has been fine-tuned to allow vision to be perfected rather than hindered.
Even shots taken through a deforming film in front of the lens did not seem to me sufficient to render the effects of prosopagnosia.
I realized, ultimately, the limitations of photography.
Therefore, I intervened on the prints with a form of "compensation."
Not only that: in addition to restoring that patina brought about by the pathology, the materiality of oil colors forces a kind of tactile reading of the image, overcoming its two-dimensionality, which functions almost like the reinterpretation of the braille method.