Benedek Balogh
Ephemeral Eternity
Ephemeral Eternity
Benedek Balogh
In my practice, a recurring motif is the exploration of underlying dimensions of our reality—dimensions that can only be accessed through the medium of photography. This also involves a constant questioning of photography’s power to reveal, alongside the inherent problem of truth that comes with its representation. This series examines the fish as a vessel for humanity’s persistent impulse to abstract, interpret, and impose meaning onto the world. The fish has always been more than just an animal—it has carried myths, beliefs, and desires throughout history. It has been sacred and elusive, a sign of abundance and a harbinger of the unknown. It slips between worlds, both literally and metaphorically, thriving in the unseen depths yet constantly surfacing in our stories.
However, the fish is inseparable from the sea, a realm that has long mirrored our deepest fears and aspirations. The sea, vast and unknowable, resists boundaries much like the fish itself. It is a space of creation and destruction, a shifting expanse where reality dissolves and reforms. We have long cast our myths into its waters, searching for meaning in the endless movement of tides and creatures that remain just out of reach. In many cultures, the fish represents transformation and transcendence. It moves without borders, unbound by human constructs, yet we persist in trying to define it, to give it meaning. It becomes a symbol of utopia—something just out of reach, always shifting, never still. My work reflects on this fluidity, on the way we chase ideals that, like fish and the sea itself, ever remain in motion. They elude capture, yet we continue to seek, to interpret, to impose structure on a world that refuses to be contained.
This practice—of briefly exposing the fish to photographic paper—was particularly interesting in its ephemerality. The act itself stood in contrast to the enduring nature of myth, which is built upon repetition and permanence. I captured the fish and placed them on photographic paper for a few minutes, allowing their brief encounter with the surface to leave an imprint of that fleeting moment in time and space. Once the exposure was complete, I returned the fish to the water, as they were never meant to be kept. These imprints are not mere physical representations of the fish—they reflect our mythical pursuit, our constant projection of meaning onto the natural world. They embody our perspective on the fish’s existence, capturing not only the creatures themselves but the elusive nature of our desire to understand and define them.
Photography is always born in the moment it is done—an act of capturing something that can never be fully grasped. It is inherently a search for meaning, a quest to understand and make sense of the unknown. Like fishing, it involves reaching into the unseen, attempting to define what resists containment. The photograph, much like the catch, is a fleeting encounter, momentarily revealing something elusive, only to return it to the depths of mystery. Each image reflects not just what is visible, but our constant attempt to make sense of what lies just beyond our understanding. Photography, at its core, is always a dialogue with the unknown. The act of exposing the fish to the paper and then releasing them mirrors the cyclical and elusive nature of life, where things emerge, imprint themselves, and disappear, leaving behind only the echoes of our own interpretations and ideals. In a way, this process paradoxically engaged with and resisted myth-making: it created an imprint that sought to preserve a moment, yet the moment itself was transient, resisting the very permanence that myth strives for.
For me, the moment was also an unknowable interaction, a fleeting encounter that defied full understanding. During those brief minutes of exposure, a strange connection was formed, an inexplicable union between the human, the fish, and the surrounding environment. In those minutes, the myth of the fish—its symbolic, mythical, and transformative qualities—surfaced and deepened, as though the fish, through its transient presence, carried not only a physical imprint but also a mythic one. The imprint of the fish and the fish itself are no longer merely connected by a direct physical relation; they have become distinct entities, each carrying its own significance. The moment the fish is placed upon the photographic paper, it transforms into something beyond its literal self. The imprint, a temporary and fleeting trace, captures not just the essence of the animal but the interaction between it and the medium—a brief but profound encounter that transcends its physical form. In that fleeting instant, the fish as a living being and the trace left behind on the paper evolve into something new. They are no longer the same—they have each birthed a new reality, a new form of existence.
This new entity, born of the technique, does not just record the moment—it distills it, pulling from the depths of time and space a reality that resists simple capture. The process itself becomes a kind of revelation, where what was once fleeting, unknowable, or buried in the margins of our perception is now made visible: The photograph becomes a portal to something deeper—something beyond the surface of things, an underlying truth that emerges through the act of exposure. It resonated with stories older than language itself, amplifying the sense of something beyond mere form, something eternal and ever shifting. And yet, the imprint left behind was delicate, momentary—offering a reminder that myth itself, though seemingly eternal, is in a constant state of reinterpretation, just as the fish and the sea refuse to be fixed in place.