O X Imágenes May 2026

To experience O X Imágenes is to experience a slow, methodical unseeing. The first few “operations” are almost playful. We see a classic 1950s family picnic. Operation X1: crop to the mother’s face. X2: invert the colors. X3: pixelate until she becomes a mosaic. But by X4—posterization—the image has lost its referent. The picnic is gone. Only data remains. By the time we reach X7 (“recursive feedback loop”), the original image is a distant rumor. What we watch is the image’s struggle against its own annihilation.

What is O X Imágenes about ? On its surface, it is a formal exercise in digital decay. But underneath, it is a fierce critique of image glut. The artist has stated in a rare program note: “Every photograph is a small death of what it depicts. We took the death and ran it backward until birth.” This is most evident in the chapter titled “X5: Archival Burn,” where the original image—a hauntingly beautiful but overused photograph of a refugee child—is subjected to simulated chemical deterioration. The longer you watch, the more you realize you’ve seen this image before, a hundred times, on news feeds, in fundraising ads, in memes. O X Imágenes argues that such images have already been eroded, not by chemicals, but by repetition. The artist is merely finishing the job. o x imágenes

O X Imágenes: A Cartography of Absence, Repetition, and the Ghost in the Visual Machine To experience O X Imágenes is to experience

Fans of Chris Marker’s La Jetée , Ryoji Ikeda’s data sonification, and anyone who has ever felt exhausted by their own camera roll. Operation X1: crop to the mother’s face