The poetics of imperfection in photography

In a world saturated with flawless images and endlessly polished surfaces, imperfection has become a rare and precious aesthetic. In my photographic practice, I deliberately seek out what is fractured, incomplete, or irregular. Cracks in concrete, rust on metal, peeling posters on forgotten walls — all these traces of time and decay speak louder than perfection ever could.

For me, imperfection is not a flaw to be corrected but a texture to be embraced. Just as in electroacoustic music, where background noise or distortion can become part of the composition, in photography these visual "imperfections" form the raw material of expression. They create tension, depth, and a sense of authenticity that pristine images often lack.

When I work on an image, I don’t aim for it to look “clean.” Instead, I want the viewer to feel its surface — to almost touch the roughness of a wall, the fragility of torn paper, or the softness of blurred edges. This approach transforms a photograph from a simple representation into a tactile and emotional experience.

By embracing imperfection, photography slows down. It resists the speed of consumption and opens a space for contemplation. The imperfect image invites us to linger, to look again, to discover new layers hidden in the cracks.

In the end, imperfection is not a defect but a way of seeing. It is a reminder that beauty lies not in what is flawless, but in what is fragile, transient, and deeply human.