When Light is Put Away
When Light is Put Away evolved from my own fascination with how the darkness of night obscures and abstracts our commonly accepted perception of the natural world. The images work to create a visual language that uncover the potential of what these spaces look like when photographed under the context of darkness. This enables the viewer to be transported to an ambiguous time and place, a curious landscape that seems foreign, celestial even, but somehow rooted in the familiar.
With this nocturnal frame of vision, the way by which we see the natural world vastly changes into a peculiar and otherworldly terrain. This sensation seems to be heightened with the addition of our man-made attempts to eradicate the darkness of night altogether, littering the land and atmosphere with our own illumination.
In a time of social and political ambivalence towards the need to address the deteriorating state of our natural world, the images adopt new meaning. Scientists continue to reveal the severity of our climate, with our influence closing in on irreversible. With these new studies, science as well as popular culture has furthered their fascination with predictions of the future of our own planet as well as the potential of civilizations on others.
In this context, the images reveal an ambiguous earthly/celestial rendition. The line between present-day Earth and prospective astral terrain is blurred, enabling the images to read as metaphor. The landscape takes on contradictions of a virulent and destructive sense of beauty, revealing traces of natural resilience in spite of an unknown posterity.
I began photographing my younger brother, Ryan, on his 11th birthday. He was born when I was eleven years old, and with working parents, I became his caretaker. At a young age, that responsibility hastened my own necessary maturity from boyhood to adolescence, fostering a relationship between us that was more complicated than just brothers.
On Ryan’s eleventh birthday, I began to notice traits in him that I also possessed when I was his age. I began to reflect on the origins of our relationship, and this photographing lead to an exploration of Ryan, myself, and boyhood on the blurred line of adolescence. These images are a documentation of my brother and the landscape in which he’s maturing, but they also contain my own reckoning with his growing up and the nostalgia of youth that accompanies it.
Walking Still is a reflection on the meditative form of walking through which I experience the natural world that surrounds me. It is an exploration of the sensation of passing through space, transforming the ordinary into something wonderful. With the only context of place being a hand-carved wooden sign reading “Little River”, the context of the spaces photographed remain unidentifiable, allowing the viewer to get lost inside the world created and experience these places for themselves. Rather than having geographic specificity, the images create a mindset and manner of exploration that invites full captivation and involvement with the familiarly quiet and still spaces passed through so often.