Ballard’s novels became an early focus of the year: his dystopian foresight of the world we’ve come to inhabit, teetering on the brink of collapse, one with increasingly scarce resources, and even scarcer access to space, instantly resonated mid-pandemic. He wrote of a ‘wide-awake dream of a population of objects all staring at you’, where digital tools become the only means of communication and interaction between peoples—even within the same physical space—where people find escape in carnal acts of disruption to the delicate (in)stability of an unjust world.
This started as a simple re-design of his most enduring, relevant novels’ covers, but quickly became an escape from the confines of my own home. Upon leaving, all that could be found were yet more borders, warnings and threats of immediate danger. The photographic, documentary approach itself was a meditative reprieve from the monotony of isolation, a process of release from the emotional turmoil of what felt to be a world ending, but simultaneously in a sort of indefinite stasis. An ongoing project, that may one day find itself in the form of a visual essay or book.