My eyes started going on me at about 7 or 8 years old, and though I wear corrective lenses to compensate for genetic shortcomings, I do find a beauty in the moments where they are absent. In relation to the portrait series presented here, I find the border very interesting that sits between recognition and abstraction. How far can the details of a face be obliterated before recognition is lost? At what point could you mistake a friend for a stranger? How much emphasis do we place on surface minutiae when we judge the merits of another human based of visual input alone? How does our idea of beauty change or disintegrate under this visual interference?