Matt Cetta, who was diagnosed with the degenerative eye disease Retinitis Pigmentosa, has transformed his experience of vision loss into art through a new collaboration with fellow photographer Christina DeOrtentiis. Together they explore resilience, blindness, and the evolving meaning of sight through their project, Photogenic Alchemy.
Chemistry, Time, and Chance
When New York-based photographer Matt Cetta first released his experimental film series Photogenic Alchemy over a decade ago, the project was a study in transformation. Using analog and alternative processes, Cetta explored how chemistry, time, and chance could alter an image, leaving beauty in imperfection. What he could not have known then was how deeply transformation would later shape his life, his career, and his relationship to seeing itself.
Years after that early work, Cetta was diagnosed with Retinitis Pigmentosa, a degenerative eye disease that progressively narrows vision and can eventually lead to blindness. The condition forced him to reconsider not only how he sees the world but also how he makes art within it. Photography, once a straightforward act of observation, became an act of resilience and redefinition. What began as a medium built around control and precision evolved into a practice grounded in intuition, trust, and acceptance of the unknown.
Recently, Cetta teamed up with his longtime friend and fellow School of Visual Arts alum Christina DeOrtentiis, a portrait photographer whose work emphasizes intimacy, texture, and emotional connection. Together, they created a collaborative portrait series that explores blindness and resilience through image-making. The work merges Cetta’s lived experience with DeOrtentiis’s interpretive eye, inviting viewers to consider how photography can translate inner experiences that are often invisible. Their collaboration not only challenges visual assumptions but also reimagines how perception and empathy intersect within the creative process.
Adapting the Craft
For Cetta, adapting his approach to photography has been both technical and emotional. The shift required not only rethinking the way he physically handles a camera but also how he measures success as an artist. Once obsessed with sharpness and precision, Cetta has learned to embrace unpredictability, finding meaning in the moments where control slips away and instinct takes over.
“I’ve learned not to trust my eyes as much,” Cetta explains.
“I used to shoot everything on manual. In fact, Photogenic Alchemy was made with a modified Holga camera that I focused by estimating the distance between me and the subject, then aligning the lens with a small pictogram of a head, people, a group of people, or a mountain. Now I rely heavily on autofocus. Thankfully, camera technology and focusing speeds have reached a level that allows me to depend on them.”
Retinitis Pigmentosa affects Cetta’s peripheral vision the most, leaving the center relatively intact but marked by what he describes as “visual snow.” The gradual narrowing of his field of vision has made him acutely aware of composition and light, forcing him to approach each frame with a mindfulness that borders on meditation, and he began to document the process of this mind shift in a blog titled “I’m Going Blind.”
“The best way I can describe it is like watching an old motion picture shot on high-speed film. The edges of my vision constantly flicker. It’s disorienting, but it has also made me more intentional about what I look at,” he says.
Even with these challenges, Cetta continues to photograph. His relationship with the camera has become deeply personal, a dialogue between capability and limitation, confidence and doubt.
“When I pick up a camera, I have to remind myself that I can still do this. I have to quiet the voice that says, ‘You’re blind, you can’t make art anymore.’ Then I open Lightroom, start editing, and think, ‘Not bad for a blind guy,’” he says.
Although he admits that motivation can come and go, he recently began shooting again, even dusting off his old Holga for another round of experimentation. Returning to film, for him, is not nostalgia; it is an act of reconnection with the tactile and uncertain, a reminder that art thrives in imperfection.
“It feels like coming full circle. The same camera that taught me to embrace imperfection is now teaching me to adapt,” he says.
A Collaboration Built on Trust
The partnership between Cetta and DeOrtentiis began with an honest conversation. Before a single photo was taken, the two artists spent time unpacking what it meant to see differently, to let go of control, and to trust another person with one’s vulnerability.
“We talked a lot about my experiences as someone losing vision,” Cetta says. “What led to my diagnosis, what my prognosis is, and what helps me manage day-to-day. When it came time to shoot, I showed up as myself, with my cane and my glasses, and trusted Christina to guide the process.”
DeOrtentiis approached the collaboration with empathy and curiosity. She understood that the process would require her to see through someone else’s sensory world and to let that perspective shape her visual decisions.
“The first step was simply listening,” she recalls.
Shared Experience
“Matt was very open about what he was going through. His descriptions were so vivid that I could almost picture what he was seeing. That was when I realized the photographs needed to feel tactile and layered. His experience with RP is physical and sensory, and I wanted that same presence in the images,” DeOrtentiis explains.
DeOrtentiis chose a mixed-media approach, printing photographs on paper, layering them with thread and translucent materials, and scanning them back into digital form. The result is a series of portraits that feel tangible, as if touched by the very sensations Cetta describes. Shooting in black and white, she used continuous lighting rather than strobes so that he could sense the direction and warmth of the light on his skin. The technique emphasized texture and emotion over precision, turning the portrait sessions into collaborative performances built on sensitivity and trust.
In one of the most striking images, Cetta stands slightly blurred with his cane, surrounded by soft, linear distortions that resemble the “light arcs” and “floaters” he experiences.
“We were trying to make visible something impossible to show,” Cetta says. “The constant flickering of my vision. Christina found a way to capture that chaos and make it poetic.”
Finding Meaning in Collaboration
For both artists, the collaboration became a reflection on authorship, vulnerability, and creative respect. It was not just about documenting Cetta’s experience but about merging two distinct perspectives into one shared language of expression. Through this process, they found that true collaboration requires surrender of ego, control, and even sight itself.
“Too often, photographers use illness as a prop. They turn someone’s condition into an emotional device for clicks or sympathy. Christina did the opposite. She listened with an open mind and an open heart. It was a true partnership, not a spectacle,” Cetta says.
DeOrtentiis echoes that sentiment, reflecting on the delicate balance between interpretation and representation.
“My role was to translate what he described into something that could be felt by others. I wanted the images to hold both the fragility and the strength of his story. It was important to me that the work be collaborative, not observational. This was never about photographing blindness. It was about photographing Matt,” she says.
Translating the Unseen
The challenge of representing something as abstract as vision loss required creativity and restraint. Both artists had to navigate the tension between literal storytelling and emotional truth, deciding what to reveal and what to leave ambiguous.
“Honestly, I didn’t set out to depict resilience,” Cetta says. “I set out to show grief, loss, and adaptation. But when I saw the finished portraits, I realized they also reflected resilience. They showed me that I’m still here, still capable, even on days when I struggle.”
DeOrtentiis approached these internal experiences by balancing literal and figurative techniques, allowing emotion to guide her craft as much as composition.
“I knew I wanted the photos to feel alive,” she explains. “I used charcoal, thread, and translucent overlays to echo the distortions Matt described. I even incorporated warm yellows, because he mentioned that his tinted glasses make edges more defined. Those small choices gave me a way to honor his perspective.”
Both artists agree that the process deepened their understanding of how photography can function beyond sight, evolving into a practice rooted in empathy and connection rather than pure observation.
“We often think of photography as something that belongs only to the eyes. But this project reminded me that vision is also emotional and sensory. You can feel an image without fully seeing it,” DeOrtentiis says.
Audience Reactions and Broader Impact
Since releasing the project online, the response has been deeply personal. Many viewers were moved not only by the images but also by the conversation they sparked around disability, identity, and creativity. The series invited audiences to confront their own assumptions about what it means to see—and to create.
“One of Christina’s friends also has RP and is a photographer,” Cetta says. “That connection meant a lot. What I really hope is that the series reaches other artists with low vision and lets them know they’re not alone.”
DeOrtentiis notes that the project also challenged common assumptions about blindness, both within and outside artistic communities.
“I learned that blindness exists on a spectrum,” she says. “It’s not a simple on-and-off condition. It can be gradual or partial. Understanding that nuance changed how I think about sight and perception.”
The Evolving Meaning of Light
For Cetta, light has taken on new significance. It has become both a source of frustration and fascination, a symbol of clarity and distortion. Every beam, shadow, and glow now carries emotional weight.
“I have a love-hate relationship with light now,” he admits. “I’m extremely sensitive to brightness during the day and need sunglasses even when it’s cloudy. At night, I rely on strong lighting to see. I wear brown lenses because they help accentuate edges and contrast. My world is literally tinted warm. When I edit, I naturally lean toward warmer tones. Sometimes I wonder if I overdo it, but that’s just how I see.”
Despite these changes, he remains deeply connected to the craft, finding new meaning in the act of creation itself.
“Composition hasn’t been affected much because my central vision is still intact. But I think more now about how fleeting vision is. Every photograph feels like a record of something I might not see clearly again,” he says.
Resilience and Representation
Cetta hopes the series encourages other artists and audiences to think critically about representation, to understand that disability and creativity are not opposing forces but intertwined forms of perception.
“Blindness isn’t an identity. It’s a condition some of us live with. There are people in this world who are doing amazing things and just happen to be blind. What matters most is how we tell those stories. Christina’s approach was grounded in respect. That’s what makes the work powerful,” he says.
DeOrtentiis agrees, adding that the collaboration reaffirmed her own philosophy about portraiture and empathy.
“My goal as a photographer is to inspire through empathy,” she says.
“Working with Matt taught me how creativity can reveal resilience in ways that words sometimes can’t. The project is about adaptation and trust, but also about the act of seeing in its broadest sense.”
Looking Forward
Both artists plan to continue building on this project, expanding its reach through exhibitions, talks, and future collaborations. For Cetta, the work represents both a personal milestone and a message to others facing similar challenges.
“I just want it to reach people who might see themselves in it,” he says. “If it helps someone else with RP feel understood, that’s everything.”
DeOrtentiis adds that she would love to photograph others who experience visual impairment or disability in their own ways, broadening the narrative beyond one story to a shared collective of perspectives.
“There are so many stories to tell,” she says. “Everyone experiences sight differently. That, to me, is what makes photography endlessly relevant.”
A Shared Vision
What began as a personal dialogue between two friends has grown into a profound artistic statement about adaptation, empathy, and the evolving meaning of vision. Photogenic Alchemy once explored the transformation of materials. This new collaboration transforms something deeper, the act of perception itself. It challenges the notion that sight defines artistry and instead suggests that vision, in all its forms, is something we cultivate from within.
“Photography will always be a part of who I am,” Matt Cetta says. “Even if my vision fades, I’ll still see through memory, through sound, through the feel of light. Losing my sight has taught me that seeing is not limited to the eyes.”
For Christina DeOrtentiis, the project affirms what she has always believed about her craft.
“The camera doesn’t just capture what we see,” she says. “It helps us understand what we feel.”
Image credits: Matt Cetta, Christina DeOrtentiis
