Limit of Art.
Where’s the limit of self-expression in art? What is accepted in society? Does it worth anything?

I have been thinking about my own death, like everyone else through their lifetime. At least once. What would be my biggest project? Could I be a real Artist, accepted by everyone, if I would take a photograph of something which is not manipulated or fake, like my own death?

 - No.

This fiction reflects on this question. The opportunities what Photography gives to the world - capture a moment, what never happens again. Manipulate the time and space by capturing only one piece of it - creating something immortal. So what is real?

Art is always questioned, there is no rule or description what would define what is art. Photography can be defined by several rules, but if I do not fit into these, I am not good enough? Would art society accept me as Photographer, if I would to this project for real? I will never get the answer, because I will never do this project. It is a fiction. It is still a manipulation. Manipulation of your thoughts.

Before I was born, I did not exist. After my death, I will not exist anymore. What will be the evidence of my existence? The love I gave to my friends, family and people. Their impression about me. That will make me still alive after I am gone. Their subjective memories. My work? That’s just a photo hanging on the wall - or maybe more. I will never know.

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