This place was much more inhabited by people in comparison to Chiltern hills, and it was more a matter of finding myself a place away from people, almost like wanting to get lost. I have no idea why I felt such an urge, but the journey in this reserve was more dynamic and energetic, mostly because of the increase in human population per square meter. There was a large lake somewhere in the middle of the reserve, and I happened to meet a family of swans, with clusters of ducks around them. I spent a lot of time observing the happenings of the swans, but it felt strangely voyeuristic to do so. It was time to move on, so I walked to the top of one hill which there weren't anyone, and I was fortunate enough to witness the sun go down. It then began to rain, and I had not ever imagined that an embrace as alien and cold as the rain could feel so comforting and warm. It had been quite a remarkable sequence of events today.

During the time prior to this week, I had been working on my project proposal and doing research. In this time, I began to take photographs of the sky, as often, I would have the privilege of being able to see sunsets from my room window. In having taken these photo, I realised that the one aspect of the world that was beyond our grasp, or rather that was least controlled by us was the sky. Although we do affect it, we cannot control it, and so it remains that the sky is perhaps the closest to nature being free from our enslavement. I feel there is something rather poetic about the sky being beyond our reach, both figuratively and metaphorically. Sometimes, I have to ashamedly admit, I feel that I want to own the sky, because it can be so indescribably beautiful, yet I have to turn my gaze away lest I taint the sky with my desire!

Looking at the sky can also be a rather transcendental experience, as its vastness can sometimes be overwhelming to the point that you feel as though you are not in your body at all. The sky does eventually become a repository of my struggle to cope with a lot of things in my life, and I still wonder how it is able to retain its charm amongst the scraps of emotional filth that drifts aimlessly in its body. And when I keep returning to the sky, I am in a position where I can't see my struggle anymore, as though it becomes liquefied in the vast expanse of the colours. Sometimes, the experience of the colour can be so mind boggling that you begin to dissociate and isolate a single colour - this has been happening more often, and it really feels quite hallucinatory. Amidst all the shades of sienna, oranges, ochres and greys, I begin to just focus on one specific colour point, and everything else just vanishes.

It feels very strange to reflect on this, because there is a part of me that is able to vividly recall the experience, and another part that wants to imagine the experience as something greater than what it really was, and I am caught between wanting to indulge my imagination and being loyal to my experience. Perhaps this struggle is a result of being bound by the urban landscape, as my desire to be free from its hold grows stronger by each day, to the point where each moment of freedom seems so short lived, almost orgasmic in nature. 

Although there is a part of me that has already seen the image of the sky, it is bypassed by the intensity of my experience. Regardless of how many impressions of a sky that I may have from having seen it on postcards, the internet, television, or videogames, the intensity of being overwhelmed by what you see is only present when I am able to witness the phenomena with my entire being, and not just with my eyes. I sometimes wonder if I would have the same experience of landscapes if I were blind, and how my views on it being so heavily reproduced would change (if it did change). 

I really want to take the motif of skies forward in my work, and perhaps use it as one of my starting points to see if it leads to something interesting in the future. 

In today's studio session, I wanted to play around with light and painting, and see how the two affect each other.

I was particularly inspired by Peter Sedgley, who projects hues onto his paintings to morph the colour schemes on his painting in an instant. I felt really excited to play around with this because it was something I began to explore previously, and I perhaps hope to use it more in my work going forward. There were some very interesting happenstances when the image projected interacted with the geometric, finite boundaries of the shapes. I was also projecting in a dark room, so the collaged/painted images would only appear as far as the boundaries of the projected image allow it to go. This allowed me to focus on certain areas of the painting instead of just projecting on top of the painting.

Another interesting development that occurred in this process was the creation of a 'secondary' or 'hidden' image between the projector and the painting. What I mean is that if I were to wave an object in front of the projection really quickly, it would form an image composed of the linear composition of the object waved, in the RGB colour scheme. For example. I took a metal cloth hanger, which is quite reliant on its linear figure, and waved it in front of the projector, and the oscillating motion created this vivid, punchy and geometric image composed of diagonal lines, which apparently seemed to just float in the air. It was truly amazing to see because the image was literally hovering in between the painting and the projection, and I couldn't see the hanger as it was a dark room, so there was minimal intervention between the process and the image created from it. The experience of seeing such a phenomenon take place was quite illusory, and perhaps even hallucinatory, because there was always doubt whether the image you were seeing really existed or not. 

I played around with different objects, such as wire sculptures, rulers, card, bottles, and they all produced really interesting results. However, it was the objects with the sharper/sharpest linear profiles that seemed to produce the more interesting compositions, which would make sense, since the light particles are diffracted across a smaller area, resulting in a sharper composition. 

This was truly a fun day, and I would like to take this idea of illusion further in my work. It seems to have a link with how our experience of landscapes is almost always an illusion, because we never see the landscape for what it really is, only as a part of our multiple impressions of landscapes that we already have from it being heavily virtualised.

Questions to take forward: 

- Could the use of projection serve as a means of virtualising a landscape?

- How can the exploration of certain visual elements help save or mend our relationship with the landscape?

- Does the use of projection alter the qualities of the image?

- When using motifs of the sky and wood, can you use these in conjunction with each other to create a higher order of meaning?

- Perhaps begin to consider how the nature of illusion can be applied in your work more actively?

- Does the use of projection lend itself to creating the illusion of an impression by default? 

- Does the image really exist if it is projected?

I continued to experiment with the projections, and I thought of using objects to project onto to introduce a new order of geometry. I wasn't really sure what I was going to project onto, so I just began with an elevated plane at first. I was quite pleasantly surprised when I combined the projections with the plane because the shadows created did in fact introduce a new order of shapes within the existing composition. 

With that having been discovered, I tried to create a variety of projections to try and exploit the shadows created by projecting onto the plane. This is mainly done by projecting at various angles to the plane to make the image spill over the edges of the plane, creating a shadow. At this point, I decided to play more with colour and abstraction, and I tried combining some of the images from my hikes and some synthetic zoomed in images together in projections, and tried those over the plane. There were a lot of instances where there was a tension between detail and abstraction, and a similar tension between colour and shape. 

 I then wondered if I should try and use moving image as well in the projections, and I did try to do so - it was quite intriguing to see the moments in both videos wrestle with each other on the plane and wall, and there was a lot of tension between them, and almost more violent in comparison with the still, harmonious images previously. Perhaps this avenue of moving image could be worth exploring later on, and this possibility seems quite exciting. 

Inspired by the experiments made in projection, I wanted to try and translate some of those ideas onto paper. I wanted to return to my sketchbook to see how I can reinvent some of my discoveries, so I tried to work on black card as a way of simulating the dark room. I then tried to overlay them with coloured acetate to completely alter the colours produced, and I cut slit holes to show glimpses of the tension going on underneath the acetate. It was really interesting to see the tiny burst of colour through the monotony of the acetate, and it was like having a dash of citrus break through the sweetness in a lemon pie (sorry that was weird). However, This made me think about whether I could use filters with slits in projection too, so that there would be short bursts of intense colour amid the sombre monotony surrounding it.

I think my work took an unexpected turn when I began to think of my collages as projections, where the colours and shapes would have their due attention and space to exhibit their specific qualities. This new way of seeing seemed to spill into my current work from my experiments in the previous project, because I feel like using projection as a medium has so much interesting potential to exploit and explore. The images used were different layers of projection on projection, with the original image being one of the liquefied, zoomed in landscape. I think this methodology of having multiple layers underneath the current projected image is something that is quite important for me, because it represents the mediation of the virtual and digital world on our sensory perceptions of the image, and seem to act as a metaphor for the masking of certain subjective perceptual qualities an image (of a landscape) may possess. This idea of something having layers but still retaining its integrity by not being split up into those layers is something I found to be quite exciting, because its a situation where it could be that the two ideas work together harmoniously, or that we can only 'see' one of the ideas because the other is hidden underneath the current one. There are a lot of interesting interactions that happen with the image, and I think it is the most smallest of interactions which make a very palpable difference, because there is an underlying element of subtlety which is brought to attention, but still maintains itself due to fragile nature of the image. 

Some of the challenges I have faced in my journey so far include figuring out what sort of space the projections could work in, as the availability of a dark room was not always there, and I think it is really important for my work to appear in a darkened space, as the same visual impact is absent in the presence of a lit environment. Also, I felt quite lost in the way I use materials with my projections, as I just hadn't really considered the implications of using other materials other than white foam board. This is a challenge I am looking forward to investigating later. Another potential challenge that could arise is having to make decision between people experiencing my work in situ vs as a video documentation. Both of these ways have their own mannerisms when communicating to an audience, and I think this is something I must not let sight of when making work, and I think I must constantly think about how my work can be experienced and what the different ways are for that to happen.

Going forward, I am very curious as to how the images will begin to interact when they are outside the space of a gallery, and perhaps experimenting more with moving image as well. This could be a really interesting avenue for my work to go, almost as though the work is trying to return to its source in the world, and I hope to perhaps play around more with different degrees of immersion and distancing for the audience. As I said earlier, I will try to experiment using my projection in tandem with various materials to see what sort of interactions take place texturally. I am also very excited to try an incorporate sound into my work to see how that affects the experience of my work. 

- How do I want my audience to experience my work?

- How can I take the motif of projection as a "masking" of the qualities of a landscape to a different place than it is now?

- Does the use of projection contribute to a de-escalation/reduction of the physical properties of the work?

- I am curious as to the interactions that could occur between various materials and the projected image. Will certain colours become reflected/absorbed on impact?

- How can I turn the calming qualities of a landscape upon itself to become perhaps more disorienting? Could the process of using digital technology to do this enhance the detrimental effect of technology on landscapes?

- Experiment with Sound in tandem with the projection installation

- Experiment with moving image projections

- Experiment with different materials/surfaces to project onto

- Try projecting onto paintings or scanning paintings and projecting them

- Try and move out of the room/studio (if you can, safely) and project in a different set of surroundings and see what happens

- Scale the works up even more and see what might happen

- Experiment with the physicality of light: try restricting, contorting, increased shutter speed, reflecting, refracting, diffracting etc.

- If you have time try and figure out if you can create an oscillating machine for the illusory RGB image to appear, but this is not as much a priority than others

[I left on the 18th March for Bahrain - I was lucky enough to find a flight, but the situation in the UK was becoming little more risky by the day for me.]

In this week, I really hope to try and figure out where I am headed, and what I want my audience to experience, and the various methods in which I can achieve this. Although today things have been going a bit slower than usual, I tried to make work despite my body telling me to stay in bed - I was trying to get adjusted to the lag, and the coffee wasn't helping for some reason. As the day went on, it g it better and I was able to get started with my work.

So I took a look at the questions I was asking in the previous entry and wanted to explore those further. I first needed to clear out a working space in my room, which I was fortunately able to do. I had also watched atlantique by mati diop recently, so those images were stuck in my head for quite a while. I wanted to get those out of my head as paintings so I could familiarise myself with how I had received them. I have begun to realise that I am beginning to use painting as a way of thinking more than as an end in and of itself. The process of painting allows me to get to know and develop a relationship with the image on a more personal level, because often it can be very misleading to observe an image through the haze of one's memory (at least in my experience). And even though your understanding of the image may not exactly be synonymous with reality, it is an honest way of communicating with your image. I also find that in the process of diving down a rabbithole of questions, it is helpful to ground your sensations and perceptions in some way, as it is somewhat easy to get quite lost - the act and process of painting is like having a boat to navigate an ocean of questions. Over time, this act of painting becomes your 'home'; a refuge to return to from a long day of exploration. 

I wanted to try and take some of the imagery in atlantique further, just because the subtlety used in some of the scenes was just so alluring. There was a sunset in particular which I found myself returning to often. I tried to create an overlay of imagery which was both obstructed and sewn together by geometric planes that were sticking out of the wall. I really liked the idea of the planes being a kind of metaphor for our internal systems of categorisation, including memory - the various planes, at angles, distort the image, but from other angles, keep the image intact. The angles at which the image is intact is not a restoration of the image - rather it is a reconstruction of what it used to be, much like how we reconstruct our own versions of a place and landscape when we experience it. I realised that the areas where the image is split can also representative of how we have yet to discover new things about the place. I wonder if it could also mean something about how we let memory fracture some aspects of our own images, just so that we can fit into it or vice versa. 

I wanted to take the projections out of the studio space now and see what would happen if I went outdoors at night to project it onto various surroundings. It was a very exciting experience to witness these in real life, and I think there was a sense of exhilaration that I felt when performing such actions. What I did was tape a projector to my arms and have a camera attached to my forehead in my line of sight. I wanted to record the happenings from my point of view because I felt like it was the closest thing to conveying my personal experience of the happenings.

The footage I projected onto my surroundings were slow motion videos of still projections done at home. It was quite strange because the slowmotion video seemed to glitch in a fluctuating manner when I recorded the projected images. I think there is something that happens between the lens and the light from the projectors which I can't really put my hand on just yet. It was quite ironic, as although it was actually in slow motion, the whole thing seemed to become drastically accelerated. And the images were again, layers and layers of zooming into found images of landscapes. I really like this idea because it is a simple way of completely masking the idea of any image, let alone the landscape, and I like that I don't really know what I am seeing. 

A challenge that I am facing currently is deciding where I want my work to be encountered. I wonder if presenting my work outdoors can have any effect on how it is perceived. Alternatively, I could stay and explore the possibilities inside a gallery space. I have been able to find a clear working space fortunately, but the absence of a workshop and travel restrictions have made it a little harder to find solutions to my problems. However, It will be fun to work around these in the near future, as it could push my project in an unexpected direction. 

Questions grouping up:

- I think I should begin taking a more reductive approach to exploiting light. How do I do this?

- How and where should my audience experience my work?

- Experiment more with sound and see what effect/reaction is brought about

- Experiment with smells too?

- Try to abandon geometry and see what happens - using cloth could be an interesting starting point

Today I wanted to try and get some stills when going outdoors. I was really curious as to how the light would interact with nature itself, such as with shrubbery or with trees. I tried a variety of images and the interactions that took place were quite fascinating. There would be parts of the light that interacted with the leaves, and the shadows would form behind the leaves, allowing the leaves to be heavily emphasised and visibly changed. The projections were also projected on the ground and inside parking spaces. I found that there was some interesting tensions happening between the geometry of the pavement and edges of the pillars in the parking areas and the projected images. There was an element of thrill as well, at least from my perspective, as projecting onto property that isn't technically yours feels like you aren't supposed to do it. It was like invading the space around me with colour, and I feel like this exercise's beauty and meaning lie more so in the process rather than in the result of it. The act of creation is more instantaneous and fleeting in these situations, whereas in the studio, the projections are held in time, thus drawing the act of creation out infinitely. I think in both instances, a sense of dynamism is maintained, but from different perspectives. In the studio, the dynamism is brought about by the moving around the work in order to gain multiple perspectives of the work that conflict with each other while the work itself remains firmly grounded. Outside, the dynamism is brought about by having a singular, static perspective, but the grounding for the work is moving across multiple settings. 

I also found that there is a sort of cyclical dialogue happening ideologically between the objects and the projections. It is as though the images I have synthesised from images of nature are being returned back to nature, completely transformed, almost as a dress that nature can 'wear'. This reminds me of Robert Mcfarlane's talk where he talks in one section about how we 'wear' landscapes in both terms of the word; by wearing it down through physical contact and through carrying it upon ourselves in some way, often through memory or imagination. In this instance, I can see how perhaps my reconstructions of landscapes as myopic images are being 'worn' by nature physically, but are also being worn down in the sense that these images have been so heavily reproduced and distributed digitally, synonymous to the act of walking to wear a landscape down in real life.

I wanted to go back outdoors and see if I could get some more stills with different images. I think this time I wanted to get more shots of how the interactions would appear if I brought more detail into the context, and how detail on detail could appear. I really enjoyed how the projections interacted with the trees in the backyard. In Bahrain, we have a lot of palm trees everywhere, and the bark of palm trees are quite unique. The detailing on the bark had a really unexpected interaction with a photo of a landscape I projected on the bark where the details of the object and the projected image had a "mating" of some sort to produce a new image. I really wanted to move away from the geometrical aspect of my work so far and see what could happen if those conventions were torn down a little. It would be very interesting to see my audience would come across this particular bark with the projected image on it - the outdoor setting at night provides a certain ambience that lends itself to being more aware of sensory interactions, and I really like this phenomenon.

I do wish I could take these projections out on the road, but due to the law of the country, it would put me in a problematic position. I think the best alternative was to just play around with it in my compound.

To finish this week off, I wanted to return to the geometrical installation one last time to have a play about with the image stills from atlantique. This time, I also used a pyramid prism I had in my house as a way to refract the light more controllably, and I was really surprised at the vividness of the refracted images. In the end, it looked like a geometrical explosion, which I thought was a really fitting end to this particular saga of work, as I was planning to strip the wall down of this installation in order to go more simplistic and reductive. I used the harsh sounds in tandem with the geometrical explosion to ultimately create a real sense of drama and emotional tension. I think it has been extremely fun to turn elements of the landscape such as sounds and scenery upon itself, because I feel it is one way to bring to attention the sensory and experiential neglect we often bring upon ourselves in a world where perception is dominated by technology.

I then stripped the wall of the geometric, planic sculpture and began to install the overhead bar. I wanted to install a bar that was perpendicular to the wall high above the ground to allow me to suspend objects from the bar to interact with projections. I wanted to be more reductive in the way my projections were appearing, as I feel I had spent a relatively decent amount of time playing with the geometric installation. I also feel like being more reductive in the way I exploit light can yield some very painterly outcomes, which is something I am keen on integrating in my practice. I feel like painting has really helped me keep up my love for imagemaking, and without it, I don't think I would have considered the use of projection. At the same time, I do wish to continue using projection as a means of painting and using it to keep exposing the experiential neglect of landscapes. 

Today I focussed more on using bursts of light to create an element of dynamism without much interference from secondary objects and images. These bursts of light resembled something more solar in nature, like a burst of sunlight coming in from a window in a dark room. The reduced "noise" from all the multiple elements that were geometrically assailing the viewer was quite pleasing to behold, and I wonder if this reduction of spatial noise can result in more potent sensations of the subject and objects in the work. The diffraction that occurs in the glass pyramid is something I want to continue to explore as I feel it has a lot of potential to create some beautiful sensations. I have also begun to realise how important colour is in the context of evoking a reaction. I always thought that it is a combination of an ideological depth and aesthetic impact that draws the viewer, but I have started to give more attention to particular sensations, and let those guide my making. The reflection is where I am able to unpick my sensations and tie them (or separate them from) to reason. It may sound strange, but making work has made me more aware of my body and my reactionary instinct more than any other activity. 

Being landlocked at home started to drive me a little insane, as I have no access to landscapes or any nature. I began using my room and infusing it with my memories of landscapes through trying to reconstruct my room in terms of landscapes I previously experienced. What I did was zoom into certain areas of my room that reminded me of fragments of landscapes I remembered. For example, one of the images are a reminder of a particular shade of bougainvillea flower in Munnar, India, while another one reminded me of a particular basil leaf in a local nature reserve in Mumbai. The process was reactionary and spontaneous - The camera was zoomed in fully, and I sat on my chair just looking through my lens and slowly revolving around the room, looking for my memories in the space around me. I thought this little experiment was quite enjoyable and took me on a very pleasant yet meaningful trip into the past. I found it so fascinating and beautiful that even in the space which we inhabit, we can always find remnants of our own landscapes hiding in places we are confined to. 

I wanted to utilise the newly installed DIY suspension rod, so I tried using my cologne bottle as a means of distorting the light from the projectors. I was quite surprised as to the effect produced from the bottle. It came out much grainier than I thought, and I expected it to be more liquid than grainy in its movement and texture. The movement the molecular like formations also reminded me of being underwater or inside an aquarium. Perhaps this was more the effect of the blue than the particles' movement. It was very interesting to see what a more reductive way of working offered - I noticed that the images made were more formless in their appearance, and I wonder how I could use this aspect of formlessness further in my work. I think reconstructing landscapes as formless entities in this instance was curious, as the images made were almost like an explosion of pixels that were just floating, and this idea of an image exploded is becoming more and more apparent in my work. 

The purple/lavender projection involved a higher degree of swaying movement, and for me, reminded me of being on a ship on a rocky sea. the rocking motion brought the impression of a sea scape for me, and I think I then realised that movement also plays an important role in evoking a reaction from the viewer. I never gave movement too much thought, but the more reductive way of working has allowed me to see elements of my work I may have missed earlier, one of those being movement. 

I wanted to introduce an element of tension and texture as well, something that reminded me of textures in nature, and I tried to incorporate some crumpled aluminium foil to help bring those textural sensations out against the fluidity and liquidity of the circular projections. I ended up liking the way the foil interacted with the light, and the detailing on its skin seemed to resemble that of natural minerals. I'm not too sure if I want to continue down this path, though it has been quite interesting. I am still curious as to what more I could do. I have a few magnifying glasses lying about in the house, and I still have yet to use the prism in all of this. I may experiment more with those and then I'll make a decision about where I want to end it. One thing I have noticed is that throughout my project, I have used light as a medium to analyse the image, and because of this, there is an element of immediacy that is brought about by its nature. I wonder if I could perhaps try and go against this idea, using light as a medium for painting but not in an immediate sense.

In today's studio session, I decided to try using the prism by itself and see what would happen. I wanted to use the suspension rod to my advantage, so I suspended the pyramid from the rod so that it appeared to be floating in front of the projector. I still wanted to be more reductive in my process, so this time, I restricted the use of two projectors to just one. 

I began to try using the projector at various angles to the prism, and some of the outcomes, particularly this one was quite surprising. In the moments where I was surprised, I noticed that the prism split the light to form multiple images at the same time. The prism would also move due to my movement causing a small burst of wind, and while it was moving, the split images too would move along with it, but it seems as though they are moving on their own accord. I was particularly fascinated with the sudden spectrum burst that appeared on the top corner of the wall I was projecting onto, and when it moved, I noticed that the individual colours were moving separately rather than the whole spectrum moving together. I think the separation of the colours of the spectrum seemed to encapsulate my intentions well, in the sense the diffraction of light sort of "unpicks" the light, just as how I try to 'unpick' how we perceive landscapes. I quite like the idea of 'unpicking' certain aspects of the landscapes we experience - it is becoming increasingly apparent to me that we seem to emotionally register certain parts of a landscape rather than the landscape as a whole entity. There is an interesting analogy that is brought about by the diffraction of light, where it separates the light into different parts, and I thought this was analogous to the mind in registering certain parts of the landscape. The prism thus serves as an "eye" or a mind", while the image from the projector is registered by the "eye" and is split and categorised into different impressions of the landscape. In a sense, the objects that I use to diffract the light can be "beings" themselves, in that they register the landscapes they are in contact with and process it in their own way. It could be an interesting way to sort of imbue these inanimate objects with life/sentience.

Taking that idea of intrusions forward, I wanted to actually see what would happen if I combined that with the actual magnification of the light from the projector. 

There were a few things to note here. I will quickly list them and explain each one of them before I forget whilst explaining one:

- the light from the projector became incredibly intense when at least two magnification lenses were in the line of light, and the potency of this light increased as the distance between the first and second lens increased, but the image became smaller in its area: this, as will most of the points made, was an unexpected discovery, and this incredibly potent burst of light completely distorts the original image into a nebulous, aurora-like form, almost incandescent as well. In real life, the experience of this burst is so visually powerful that it is very hard to put into words. I am quite intrigued as to this transformation of the image into this formless, incandescent 'thing' - I am also quiet confused as to how this phenomena is actually existing. This metamorphosis of the image through lenses is almost symbolic of how our perceptions and how images of landscape in general go through a filtering or funnelling or some sort; this refers back to one of the crits I had with my friend Temi who remarked about a particular 'funnelling' of the sensory impressions we register in a landscape. In this instance, the funnelling is changed into a more intense focussing, and it begins to play about with notions about zooming in and out of our images of landscapes, both literally and metaphorically. This tension between zooming in and zooming out forms a dialogue with one of my processes I have developed in my time on this course, and I thought this was a strange callback to a process I deem fundamental to my practice.

- the intrusions that were made by the uneven positioning and movement of the frames made it such that there were moments when the lenses aligned and produced an incredible and intense burst of light at some place on the wall: As I said in the previous paragraph, the lenses have the collective ability to produce incredible bursts of colour. I also found that sometimes, when you let the magnifying glasses move on their own, there are moments where they align and there is an sudden and momentary burst of light, which then disappears quickly. I thought this non-cyclic movement of the lenses was quite fun to behold, as there is a sense of anticipation as to when the lenses would align. I later realised this process was a lot like finding the first star in the dimming sky; sometimes you'll find it, sometimes you may miss it, and it becomes a sort of fun activity of spotting. Spotting uncanny or obvious objects from its surroundings is a practice we are often taught as a child, and so this idea of playfulness is also brought about in the work. 

- Sometimes, the light from the projector can be refracted at an angle, and you can alter the path of the light using subsequent lenses: this was comparatively a less intriguing phenomena but I feel it is intriguing enough for me to mention it. I began to notice that the light has its own path. It sounds very obvious at first, but I didn't realise that this was the case until I realised how the potency of the image is affected by the distance and angle the light travels. I feel like these are two factors I can explore further in works to come, but at the moment, it remains an open door for me to properly explore in the future. 

- I can position the lenses accordingly to create my own bursts of light: This was something I was very keen on exploring. I really enjoyed the moments where light bursts through the darkness of the room, and although these were spontaneous at first, I managed to hold some of the lenses in place in order to refract the light at certain angles and proximities to have more control over the shape and form of the light bursts. Although I didn't explore this idea further in today's session, I think I will tomorrow.

I found it rather difficult to make  any new work these last two weeks, but I think I needed time to think about the entire trajectory of my journey thus far. I also felt sort of burnt out from making work, so I decided to take this time to try and reflect on my project and see where it would go beyond this course. I also have to choose my images for the catalogue, which I feel won't be easy. I think it makes me feel rather uneasy to have to choose because I think I am always second-guessing myself. However I think it would be better for me to use this as an opportunity to learn from this fear and perhaps work on it for similar future instances. Right now, I am making a compilation of images to show Emma on my tutorial so we can have a discussion about which images to select. I did try and model a mock exhibition using mount board, but it didn't really go well.