I take photos to remember, to anchor fleeting experiences in the present. The camera pulls me out of my head and into my body, into the messy, immediate now. Travel shaped this practice, teaching me to see the extraordinary everywhere. Light remains my enduring obsession: the force that structures both my perception and my work.

Through repetition and juxtaposition, fragments accumulate into something larger than themselves. I work from my archive, revisiting decades of photographs and layering them with found images to open new conversations. I cut, collage, and project so that many images can speak at once. I play with the tension between analog and digital methods, a process I call “beautifully ruining,” because ruin exposes what is real. My goal is not just to show pretty pictures of things, but to convey their presence: their weight and immediacy.

My practice is shaped by a belief in the vitality of objects and by a trust that photographs carry a kind of truth. I want my photographs to feel more real than memory, revealing not just appearance but the presence and aliveness of things. This is a time marked by loss, both personal and cultural; my work carries that weight without trying to resolve it. It calls attention to the presence of objects and the significance of each moment in our lives.