S H E L T E R
Photography has a long and complicated relationship with memory and truth. Its history is filled with images used to shape belief, reinforce power, and define who belongs where. SHELTER began as a question about where we go physically and mentally when life starts to feel massive and unyielding. We are surrounded by a constant flood of digital images, and that barrage creates a numbness toward what we see and experience. In response, I’ve become increasingly interested in pushing my understanding of the medium, examining not only what photographs can reveal but also how they can narrow the ways we perceive the world.
This project is my attempt to imagine a photographic space that resists control. The chemigrams and lumen prints in SHELTER grow out of that search. By abandoning the camera, I give up the precision of machinery and shift my attention to process, chance, and material. Light, chemistry, and time collaborate in ways I cannot fully dictate; I guide the work, but I cannot force it into a predetermined shape. These prints rely on direct physical engagement—an intentional counterpoint to the distance built into camera‑based and digital processes. The image forms only through actual contact, grounding the work in a closeness and accountability that more mediated tools often remove.
The resulting images are traces. They are fragments hovering between incomplete memories and physical evidence. Some record direct presence, while others point toward simple structures or ideas of shelter. Together they ask us to reconsider what we assume a photograph must look like and, if we’re willing to accept these forms as part of the medium, what new possibilities might follow.
To purchase individual prints, please visit this link.