Photography no longer belongs only to vision.
Photography is a consequence of a human's holistic perception.

The light within us.

Table of Contents:

FLUXISM: Rethinking the nature of the image.

In the era of dominance of artificial algorithms and the cult of technical perfectionism, fluxism proposes a shift of attention: from the final result to the processual nature of the creative act.

The image here is understood not as a goal, but as a natural consequence — a materialised trace of the interaction between the human, their bodily state, light, and time. In this shift of priorities lies the main value of the movement: the restoration of the ontological status of human presence and the uniqueness of the unrepeatable moment.

Fluxism does not oppose itself to technologies, but asserts a different optics, where photography ceases to be merely visual fixation and opens up as:

— a field for interdisciplinary dialogue (including research into perception);

— a space for inclusive practices (where vision ceases to be the sole condition for creativity);

— a collectible artefact, whose uniqueness is embedded in the very processual nature of its emergence;

— a tool that triggers changes in the author themselves at the level of holistic perception.

A museum or exhibition institution in this context becomes not just a place of display, but a space of encounter with that which by definition cannot be reproduced — with the captured event of presence.

FLUXISM: Definition and the key shift.

Fluxism (from the English flux — flow) is a philosophical and artistic movement in conceptual photography, founded by Siarhei Mikhaliuk on April 12, 2025.

At the core of the movement lies a rethinking of the status of the photographic act: from the fixation of an external object to the registration of the process of interaction.

In classical photography, the image is understood as a result — a completed visual form, subject to the laws of composition, focus, and control. Fluxism proposes something different: here the image is not a goal, but a consequence. It emerges as a materialised imprint of an encounter between the human (their body, state of attention, breath, movement), light, and time.

This shift — from result to process, from product to trace — constitutes the key distinction of fluxism from traditional photographic practices. The photographer ceases to be a "camera operator" recording external reality. They become a participant in an event, in which the camera serves as a conduit of bodily experience.

Three key principles:

Processuality — value lies not in the final image, but in the act of its emergence. Photography is understood as a performative action, rather than the production of an object.

Corporeality — the camera becomes an extension of the sensorimotor system. Breathing, rhythm of step, body position, degree of muscle tension — all of this influences the result and constitutes the author's "signature".

Acceptance of uncertainty — fluxism does not seek to neutralise chance (as traditional technique does through tripods, stabilisation, and precise autofocus). On the contrary, chance is embraced as part of the artistic language. What is usually considered an "error" (motion blur, flare, camera shake) here acquires the status of an expressive means.

Fluxism does not oppose itself to technologies, but asserts a different optics: in an era when artificial algorithms are capable of generating any "eye-oriented" images, the human body remains a territory inaccessible to simulation. Not because AI is "bad", but because it has no body, no breath, no vibration of the moment.

Photography in this logic ceases to be merely a visual practice.

It opens up as:

— a field for interdisciplinary dialogue (philosophy, neuroscience, psychology of perception);

— a space for inclusive creativity (where vision is not a privilege);

— a way of exploring one's own consciousness through its materialisation in a light trace.

FLUXISM: Purpose. From exploring the world to exploring consciousness.

Purpose. From exploring the world to exploring consciousness.

Any creative practice answers the question: "What is its purpose?"

In the traditional way of photography, the answer is obvious: exploration and fixation of the external world. The photographer consciously directs the camera at objects, events, and people, striving to visually control the result.

The quality of the result is measured by how accurately, expressively, or compositionally flawlessly they have managed to capture what is "out there" — outside the author.

Fluxism proposes something different.

Its purpose is not primarily the exploration of the surrounding reality, but the author's exploration of themselves (the human): their perception, bodily sensitivity, the nature of attention, and what might be called the "inner landscape of consciousness".

This distinction can be formulated as follows.

In the traditional way of photography, concentrated visual attention is directed outward, at external objects, seeking the right moment and the correct, aesthetically harmonious composition. This is a mental exploration of the external world and form. The camera acts as an optical device, and the result is an image of external objects.

In fluxism, the photographer's gaze is directed inward, their concentration on sensations and the state of the body, on their own perception of reality.

The nature of subjective experience is explored. The camera becomes a seismograph of state, and the result — light imprints and traces of experience.

It is important to emphasise: fluxism does not deny the value of external exploration. It is a matter of distinguishing purposes. One thing is to study the structure of the external world. Another is to study how a person perceives this world, how their body responds to light and space, how the feeling of presence is born.

Moreover, this exploration is carried out not indirectly, through reflection and analysis, as in eye-oriented photography, but totally — through holistic experience. The photographer does not think about their state; they live it. The camera records not what they "decided to shoot", but what happened in the moment of interaction between their body, attention, breath — and the light that manifested all of this.

Thus, photography in fluxism becomes not about what is in front of the camera, but about who moves with the camera and in what state.

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Exploration becomes not only external, but above all internal. And photography — not a document of external reality, but a projection of consciousness.

FLUXISM: Three states in the practice of fluxism.

In the practice of fluxism, three states can be distinguished, reflecting different dimensions of human experience. These states do not form a rigid hierarchy, but allow for distinguishing different modes of working with the camera and perception.

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The first state — somatic (technique). Purpose — not to see, but to create.

This state is connected to the bodily nature of the artistic act. The photographic act here begins with the movement of parts of the physical body. Body position, breathing, kinaesthetic sensation of space, rhythm of step, direction of gaze — all of this becomes part of the artistic gesture.

The camera records not so much the object as the trajectory of interaction between the human and the light environment. The image emerges as a light-motor registration — a trace of movement, in which corporeality and light form a single dynamic system. The photographer works not through the viewfinder, but through the movement of the body.

This state is accessible to many. The technical technique can be mastered in a short time.

The second state — affective (bodily awareness). Purpose — not to create, but to be present.

This state is connected to internal emotional dynamics and conscious work with the body. Photography begins to record the configuration of experience: the state of attention, mood, intensity of presence. The image ceases to be a representation of the object and becomes a visual indicator of the author's internal state.

Each frame represents a unique combination of the external light situation and the internal emotional rhythm. What the photographer feels at the moment of shooting — calmness, anxiety, admiration, surprise — manifests itself in the structure of the light trace.

This state requires preparation and developed bodily sensitivity, the ability to distinguish shades of muscle tension and relaxation, the ability to maintain attention on the flow of sensations.

The third state — pure perception.

This state is connected to the primary, pre-logical contact with reality — that which precedes thinking.

"The thought of the sun is not the perception of the sun."
"The thought of oneself and the perception of oneself are different."

In the state of pure, primordial perception, the photographer acts not from analytical calculation and not only from bodily memory, but from a holistic feeling of presence. The camera records not what they "decided to shoot", but what happened in the moment of their interaction with space, light, and time.

The difference between thought and perception has a neurophysiological basis. Conscious, verbalised thinking has a bandwidth of only 10–50 bits per second. This is an extremely slow, sequential process. At the same time, the sensorimotor system — the connection between perception and movement — processes information at speeds of millions of bits per second, doing so in parallel. The body reacts faster than thought can form. Reaction time can be 50–150 milliseconds — before the phrase "I am reacting" appears.

When a person shifts attention from internal dialogue to bodily sensations, the activity of the prefrontal cortex (the centre of self-control and analytical thinking) decreases. The "internal conversation" network (Default Mode Network, DMN) quiets down. This is experienced not as fatigue, but as a surge of energy. The state of pure perception does not drain energy, but replenishes it.

"The sum of parts is not the whole." Technical mastery of the methodology and the development of bodily awareness do not guarantee entry into this state. This state cannot be summoned on command. It is here, in the space of pure perception, that images are born that most fully correspond to the nature of the fluxism flow — as an unpredictable phenomenon, rather than an expected result.

FLUXISM: Pure perception and the nature of authenticity.

At the core of fluxism lies the distinction between two fundamentally different ways of human contact with reality: seeing and feeling.

Vision fixes form, distance, colour, and the movement of objects in the external environment. This is a distant, analytical process that can occur without the involvement of deeper layers of experience. Feeling is an embodied experience, in which perceptual signals are transformed into information and thoughts. These primary signals are received totally (holistically).

In the traditional way of photography, vision dominates, where the camera seems glued to the eye. The photographer looks, evaluates, fixes. Their body must be neutralised so as not to affect the result. The other senses — hearing, touch, proprioceptive sense of body position in space — remain on the periphery of attention or are entirely excluded from the process.

Fluxism proposes something different: not the addition of other channels of perception to vision, but a revision of the very nature of perception. In holistic perception, vision ceases to be the main tool of orientation. The photographer acts not as "an eye that is assisted by the body", but as a holistic being, for whom vision is one of many equal tools alongside hearing, breathing, the sensation of weight and balance, and tactile sensitivity.

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The camera in this context becomes an extension of the entire sensory wholeness of the human. It records not what is seen in the external world, but what is perceived by the photographer here and now. Vision is integrated into the holistic act of perception, where none of the channels is either primary or secondary.

It follows from this that photography turns from a visual art into a bodily practice of self-knowledge, where it is not the sensitivity of the camera sensor, but the state of the human that will predetermine the resulting light imprint.

FLUXISM: The body as optics​​​​​​​.

In the traditional way of photography, the photographer's body is viewed as a source of interference. Tripod, image stabilisation, short shutter speeds, autofocus — these are technological solutions aimed at neutralising the influence of the body on the result. The less the body interferes with the shooting process, the "cleaner" the resulting image is considered to be.

Fluxism proposes the opposite approach. The body ceases to be an interference and becomes the primary tool for shaping the image.

This shift has not only a technical but also a philosophical dimension. In fluxism, the body is understood as the primary organ of cognition. It not only delivers the camera to the right point in space but participates in the act of creativity as a co-author.

In this context, the camera ceases to be an external device controlled through a viewfinder. It becomes an extension of the photographer's sensory system. Just as a white cane for a blind person is a tool for touching the physical world, the camera in fluxism becomes a "cane of consciousness" — a tool with which the photographer probes space, enters into dialogue with it, and leaves a trace of that interaction.

This approach requires a reconsideration of one's relationship to one's own body. The photographer needs to develop bodily sensitivity: the ability to distinguish shades of muscle tension, to feel the centre of gravity, to coordinate breathing and movement. Without this sensitivity, attempts to shoot within the logic of fluxism remain an external imitation — a mechanical repetition of the technique without understanding its essence.

In an era when artificial algorithms are capable of generating any "eye-oriented" images based on statistical patterns, the human body remains a territory inaccessible to complete simulation. An algorithm has no breath, does not feel fatigue, does not know what trembling hands from excitement or relaxation after a long wait feel like. It has no body, and therefore lacks that unique, unrepeatable trace that the body leaves on every shot.

It follows from this that corporeality in fluxism is not merely a technique or method, but a way of returning photography to its human dimension.

FLUXISM: Fluxism and inclusion.

Fluxism reconsiders not only the role of the body in photography, but also the very notion of who can be a photographer.

In the traditional approach, photography is considered a visual art, where vision is a necessary condition for creating an image. The photographer looks through the viewfinder, evaluates the composition, chooses the moment. Without vision, this process seems impossible.

Fluxism demonstrates that this is not the case.

At the core of the movement lies the principle: to see does not mean to look. An image can be created not through visual control, but through holistic perception, where the camera becomes an extension not of the eye, but of the entire sensory experience of the human.

For a person with visual impairments, fluxism opens up the opportunity to engage in photography on equal terms with those who see. Moreover, the limitation of vision here is not a disadvantage. It becomes a circumstance that allows one to consciously focus on other channels of perception — hearing, touch, proprioception, movement. The brain, deprived of the usual visual flow, redistributes resources and sharpens other forms of sensitivity.

In this logic, the camera performs a function analogous to a white cane. A white cane is a tool with which a blind person touches the physical world, feels the texture of surfaces, navigates around obstacles. The camera in fluxism becomes a "cane of consciousness" — a tool with which the photographer senses space, light, their own movement within it, and leaves a visual trace of that contact.

The process of shooting in this approach ceases to be an act of visual control. It becomes a meditative practice of presence, where the photographer trusts the flow of sensations. The result is secondary to them. What matters is the process itself — immersion in the moment, dialogue with space through the body and the camera.

Thus, fluxism does not adapt the existing rules of photography for people with visual impairments. It creates a different paradigm, in which vision ceases to be a privilege, and creativity becomes accessible on the basis not of physical abilities, but of the wholeness of perception.

This opens up a new understanding of inclusion in art. Inclusion here is not the adaptation of a person to existing norms, but a revision of the norms themselves. A photographer with visual impairments gains a voice in visual culture not despite their limitation, but because of a different way of seeing — sensing, bodily, total.

In this sense, fluxism returns photography to its original purpose: to be a record of light. Light is not intended solely for the retina of the eye. Light can be felt by the skin, heard through movement, manifested through breath. And the camera that captures this light becomes a tool not of vision, but of presence.

FLUXISM: Fluxism and Fluxus: similarities and differences.

The name "fluxism" (from the Latin fluxus — flow, current) inevitably evokes associations with the historical avant-garde movement Fluxus, which emerged in the 1960s. Despite the etymological proximity and certain conceptual intersections, these two phenomena have fundamentally different foundations, objectives, and historical contexts. The distinction between them is neither accidental nor formal — it reflects a change of eras and a transformation in the very understanding of what art can be.

Fluxus took shape in the early 1960s as an international association of artists, musicians, and poets grouped around George Maciunas. Its ideology developed as a direct reaction to the institutional system of art, the commercial art market, and the cult of individual creativity. The movement's manifesto proclaimed the intention "to promote a revolutionary flood in art," "to unite the cadres of cultural, social, and political revolutionaries into a single front and action." Fluxus rejected the traditional understanding of art, erased the boundary between art and life, asserting the priority of process over product.

Its artistic language — events, scores, games, absurd instruction-scripts, cheap reproducible objects ("flux-boxes"), published in small editions and distributed by mail. Fluxus was a movement with a protest-driven, often politicised, anarchic, and anti-commercial pathos, directed against "dead art, imitation, artificial art, illusionist art, mathematical art." Its existence was largely confined to academic and festival environments, never gaining widespread public recognition beyond a narrow circle of initiates. Maciunas himself defined Fluxus's task as a "pedagogical function — to teach people the uselessness of art, including the possible uselessness of itself."

Fluxism emerges in different historical conditions — in the era of post-digital reality, total visual oversaturation, and the dominance of artificial algorithms. It is neither a protest against art, nor a critique of institutions, nor a negation of tradition. Fluxism is a necessity of the time, a response to the crisis of authenticity in a situation where algorithms have learned to imitate any visual aesthetic, and the image has lost its status as evidence of presence.

Unlike Fluxus, fluxism does not oppose itself to art, but asserts a new paradigm within it: from the representation of the external world to the fixation of internal experience; from result to trace; from visual control to holistic perception.

Fluxism is constructive by nature. Its task is not to destroy or shock, but to explore the nature of human perception and to return to photography its lost value. Artificial intelligence and digital technologies are not perceived as a threat; on the contrary, their development exposes the central question of contemporary visual culture: what remains for human creativity when an algorithm is capable of reproducing any form? Fluxism's answer — the territory of the living, embodied, unpredictable experience, which is algorithmically unreproducible by definition. This is precisely why fluxism does not enter into confrontation with technologies, but delineates territories: algorithms operate with data and patterns, fluxism — with bodily presence and pure perception.

Despite their differences, there exists a deep conceptual connection between Fluxus and fluxism. Fluxus taught that art can be an event, not an object; that process is more important than product; that chance and improvisation have a place in creativity; that the boundary between art and life can be dissolved. Fluxism inherits these principles but translates them into a different optics: not event as performance, but event as inner experience; not chance as an artistic device, but chance as trust in the flow of perception; not the dissolution of the boundary between art and life, but life itself — and human evolution — as the primary work of art.

The difference can be formulated as follows: Fluxus was the art of negating boundaries — between genres, between art and life, between author and spectator, between high and low. Fluxism is the art of discovering essence — returning to what makes experience authentic and presence unique. Fluxus negated the artefact as a commodity. Fluxism asserts the artefact as a trace — not as an object of consumption, but as documentation of an event in which the human, their body, their perception, and light converged in a unique, unrepeatable act. Fluxus proclaimed: "art can be everything" (and thereby negated its specificity). Fluxism asserts: "art can be a bodily trace of authentic presence" (and thereby restores to it the specificity lost in the age of total reproduction).

Both movements use the concept of flow (flux), but understand it differently. Fluxus understood flow as a movement of breaking conventions, as a social and aesthetic revolution.

Fluxism understands flow as a state of holistic perception — a moment in which the human ceases to be an observer and becomes a participant, and the camera — not a tool of fixation, but a conduit of sensations. In this sense, fluxism can be understood not as a continuation or reinterpretation of Fluxus, but as its activation — a return to the original impulse of movement, but at a different turn of history, with different tools and in the face of different challenges.

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If Fluxus was the art of its time — the time of the Cold War, alienation, critique of institutions — then fluxism is the art of our time — the time of digital oversaturation, imitation, the blurring of the boundary between the real and the virtual. And in this capacity, it offers not an alternative to Fluxus, but its contemporary, living, breathing reading — a reading in which the radical ideas of the 1960s gain new relevance and a new form.

FLUXISM: Fluxism in the context of the age of imitation.

The contemporary visual environment is undergoing a fundamental transformation. Artificial algorithms have learned to generate images that are indistinguishable from those created by humans, and in some aspects surpass them in technical perfection. The question arises: what remains for human creativity when an algorithm is capable of reproducing any aesthetic, any style, any composition?

Fluxism does not enter into confrontation with technologies. It proposes something different: a delineation of territories.

Algorithms operate with data, patterns, probabilities. They analyse existing images, identify regularities, and combine them in new configurations. Their "creativity" is always a recombination of the already known. They have no body, no breath, no vibration of living presence in the moment. And most importantly: artificial algorithms have no pure perception.

Contemporary artificial algorithms are a derivative of thought-forms. They operate with that which has already been constructed by thought, processed, classified, and entered into databases. Their result is always a work with secondary material.

Pure perception, by contrast, is primary. It precedes thought, is not reducible to it, and cannot be reduced to algorithmic processing. This is precisely why the value and significance of primary perception are so essential. They constitute the fundamental difference between human experience and any virtual spaces or artificial constructs.

Fluxism works with that which is algorithmically irreproducible — with the bodily, the unpredictable, the situational, the unique.

Every frame created in this logic is a trace of a specific moment, a specific state of the author, a specific interaction of their body, breath, attention, and the light that manifested all of this. This trace cannot be generated, because the algorithm has no access to its source: the living, embodied, unrepeatable experience of "here and now".

In this distinction lies the key to understanding the place of fluxism in the age of imitation.

Moreover, fluxism responds to a broader challenge — the era of total substitution, where not only images are imitated, but also feelings, faith, care, and awareness. Between experience and its form lies an abyss.

Vision is the primary channel of imitation. It is easily deceived by appearance. The body is more difficult to deceive. Its reactions — tension, relaxation, rhythm of breath — betray the authentic state.

In this context, fluxism turns to the body as the last detector of truth in a world where words and images have lost trust.

It outlines a vector of evolution: from a civilisation of viewers, built on the dominance of vision and visual control, to a civilisation of the sensing, where value is determined not by the amount of information consumed, but by the depth and authenticity of lived experience.

Fluxism does not deny reason and does not call for a rejection of technology.

It proposes to restore the balance between seeing and feeling, between control and trust, between result and process.

In an era when algorithms have learned to imitate everything that can be formalised, the only territory that remains human is that which cannot be formalised: the living, embodied, unpredictable experience of the moment, pure perception that precedes any thought.

FLUXISM: The trace as a unique artefact.

In the 21st century, images have ceased to be a rarity. iPhones and Android devices have turned every smartphone owner into a photographer. Billions of images are uploaded daily to social networks and cloud archives. Outdoor surveillance cameras, street dashcams, facial recognition systems — all of this generates streams of images that no one will ever see, but which exist in digital space. Artificial algorithms process, classify, and analyse these vast datasets.

In this situation, the value of a photographic image as a document or as evidence of "I was here" has been virtually reduced to zero. Today, society struggles not to reproduce reality, but to present itself. The image has become a way of existing for the individual in the digital environment — their virtual double, an extension of their social body.

What remains of photography as art and as value in a world where images are infinitely abundant, and their authenticity is no longer guaranteed?

Fluxism offers an answer.

Value here is determined not by technical perfection or decorative qualities. Value is determined by the authenticity of the event that is captured in the light trace. A flux-frame is a trace of presence, a moment of the author's unrepeatable perception, a unique signature of a path traversed.

The mastery of the photographer in fluxism is manifested not in the ability to repeat successful compositions, but in the capacity for holistic perception. The more sensations present at the moment of performing actions, the deeper the author's culture of sensing, the more holistic and aesthetically significant the result becomes. The aesthetic component is not opposed to uniqueness, but is its consequence at a high level of wholeness.

Unlike images that can be copied and reproduced countless times, a flux-imprint exists in a single copy. Each such frame is documentation of a phenomenon that existed only once.

For a collector and a museum institution, this means that what is acquired is not a decorative image. What is acquired is a trace — material evidence of an event in which the human, their body, their holistic perception, and light converged in a unique act of presence. The pinnacle of the artefact here is not the work on the wall, but the human being themselves. The photograph is merely a trace of their state, their mastery, their wholeness.

Thus, fluxism returns to photography its lost value in the era of digital oversaturation, asserting the priority of authenticity, wholeness, and uniqueness — and above all, the priority of the human as the source of art.

FLUXISM: Light-motor neurography (LMN).

Fluxism, which emerged from the practice of perception and artistic method, has formulated a hypothesis that extends beyond the boundaries of art. This hypothesis has been named "Light-motor neurography" (LMN).

At the core of LMN lies the assumption: a spontaneous light trace arising during shooting in a state of holistic perception is a unique biometric marker of the psychophysiological state of the human at the moment of shooting.

Every human possesses a unique neuromuscular pattern. Gait, gestures, manner of movement — all of this is individual and can serve as a means of identification. Fluxism proposes to capture this pattern not through mechanical measurements, but through the light trace left by the movement of the body with the camera.

In a state of holistic perception, when analytical control weakens, the body acts without conscious intervention. The camera with a long shutter speed registers the trajectory of this movement, translating the neuromuscular pattern into a visual form. The resulting image is not a representation of an external object, but a graph of the author's state.

Several research perspectives follow from this.

First. Fluxism can be considered as a method of visualising subjective experience. Anxiety, calmness, concentration, relaxation — these states may have discernible light-motor correlates.

Second. The camera in this paradigm claims to be a tool of neurophysiological research alongside EEG and fMRI. At the same time, it possesses a fundamental difference: it records not the electrical activity of the brain, but its bodily expression — living, holistic, occurring in a natural environment, rather than in laboratory conditions.

Third. If the hypothesis is confirmed, LMN may offer a new way of diagnosing states — stress, fatigue, flow, meditation — through the analysis of spontaneous light-motor patterns.

LMN does not replace existing neuroresearch methods, but may complement them by providing a visual context for subjective states that are difficult to measure by other means.

At present, LMN is at the stage of a research hypothesis. Its status is not an established fact, but a programme for interdisciplinary research at the intersection of art, neuroscience, and the psychology of perception.

FLUXISM: From Homo Sapiens to Homo Sentience.