In my series Projected Reality, I explore the way history, art, and the body collide. Using a vintage slide projector, I cast art historical images—often pieces I discovered in the old art history slides from a forgotten classroom—onto anonymous human figures. These projections act as a bridge between past and present, transforming familiar artwork into something more fluid, personal, and charged with new meaning. The bodies, seemingly unaware of the light that envelops them, become canvases, distorting the artwork and giving it an ephemeral, almost living quality.

The physicality of the body introduces a layer of intimacy, of touch, even though the figures remain distant and passive. The original works of art, in their traditional settings of gallery or classroom, are static, removed from daily life. But when projected onto skin, these images blur the boundaries between the historical and the present moment—becoming part of someone’s lived experience, part of their story. The projections interact with the skin’s curves, the body’s stance, and the light around them, creating new shapes, emotions, and dialogues.

This series reflects my time working in a white-walled gallery space, where I saw firsthand how the context of an artwork—the space it occupies—shapes how we perceive it. In those sterile, controlled environments, art is often isolated, frozen in time. But through these projections, I seek to liberate it. Each image takes on a new dimension, a new life, as it interacts with the body and the space around it. It is no longer confined by the boundaries of a museum’s walls or the stillness of a classroom projector. It becomes fluid, momentary, personal—an ever-changing landscape of light, flesh, and history.

Ironically, these fleeting moments of projection may  at some point hang in a gallery, thus returning the work to a more traditional, fixed space. By bringing the photographs back into the gallery context, I am drawing attention to the tension between the temporary and the permanent, between the personal and the institutional. What happens when something that once existed as a living, breathing moment is reduced to a still image? What does it mean for that moment to be framed, archived, and displayed in the very space that the projections were meant to disrupt?

Ultimately, this series asks: How does the art we see change when it’s no longer static, when it touches something human? How does it transform when it’s cast onto a living, breathing surface, one that is in motion, in flux, just like the world around us?