I photographed this reflection yesterday.
There was no long contemplation, no weeks of uncertainty — just that electric moment when something catches your eye, and you instinctively know: there’s something here.

Every artwork starts with an intention, but it really comes alive when someone else looks at it. For months this new piece has sat in my “possibilities” folder – a dark, mysterious field with a single golden sphere glowing at its centre. I knew there was something powerful there, but it still felt unfinished without a title that came from beyond my own point of view.

That's why I launched "The Untitled Artwork Experiment." The goal was simple yet profound:

In a field of charged red, a single silver line threads its way like a needle through flesh. From the dark hollows within, unseen presences seem to watch, as if the blood itself were quietly observing the world outside. The work hovers between cartoon and anatomy, turning an abstract reflection into a living, pulsing interior.

An artist never really sees his work…Ralph Kerle

Hiroshi Sugimoto once said, “What the eye sees is not what the camera sees.” That thought lies at the heart of Distances in Reflection, but in truth, it runs through all of my work.

I recently had an extraordinary, almost surreal experience—one that shifted my perception of what Artificial Intelligence might truly be capable of. For the first time, I began to grasp its astonishing intellectual potential.