On building worlds of your own

In most cases, a new series grows out of questions I encounter in everyday life. We can only grasp the world through our own filters—and while the themes vary from project to project, what remains constant is an attempt to visualize the relationship between the world as objective reality and the subjectivity through which we perceive it.

I am strongly drawn to placing contingency at the core of my work—the kind of contingency that arrives within a clearly defined structure or set of rules. For this reason, I often employ experimental processes. The accidents, errors, and displacements that emerge from these processes have the potential to reconstruct fixed frameworks and open up new possibilities for interpretation. I believe this can become a catalyst for questioning the way the world currently is, and for reconsidering what it means for the world to be rich with meaning.

I begin with ideas—listing, to some extent, the images I feel I need as pieces of the work. But things rarely go as planned. As I mentioned, experimental processes bring unexpected discoveries, and it is from those discoveries that individual photographs, and sometimes the work as a whole, find their direction and develop.

My photographs can only offer a fragmentary view of the world as seen through my own eyes. But by leaving something ambiguous within that view, the person looking can connect it to their own experience. If the work resists fully revealing itself, it is because I believe that meaning is not something fixed inside the photograph—it is something that emerges in the space between the image and the person standing before it.

Uncertainty has, in a sense, always been the underlying thread running through my work—so this moment feels less like disruption and more like confirmation. The instability we are living through makes visible what was always true: that the order we once relied upon was provisional. What keeps me making work is the belief that photography can hold that tension without resolving it. Not as an answer, but as a way of remaining with the question.