Statement
The image arrives late.
After the moment, after the memory, after the self has already begun to shift.
In the residue—where nostalgia falters, where the frame can’t hold still.
Not a window but a wound,
a surface overwritten again and again.
A palimpsest of memory. A palimpsest of place.
I follow traces of what’s missing.
The body that vanishes.
The land that remembers.
The memory that replays wrong.
It becomes a trace of a trace.
My images do not declare.
They hover, flicker, dissolve.
A gesture, a shadow.
The quiet collapse of certainty.
I enter old spaces to find what no longer fits. The familiar becomes unfamiliar once again.
I borrow the postures of men I do not wish to become.
I listen to the cold. I let the land speak back.
It is one of disappearance and return, of undoing and re-becoming.
Not a search for truth, but for echo. I look not to the boat gliding through the water but the wake it leaves behind.
Something once was.
Something still is.