I photograph to slow down time. The camera focuses my attention. It asks me to notice what is easily passed by.

My photographs grow out of walking, material exploration, and meditative time in nature. I photograph what catches my attention: the evidence of change and decay, the unexpected meeting of forms, traces left behind, and the small details that become visible when I move slowly through a landscape. These images become a record of where I have been, but also a source of discovery and inspiration.

I photograph to remember what I cannot keep.

Photography is woven into my studio practice. Images become visual notes — fragments of memory and observation that I carry back into the making of sculpture and wearable art in metal, glass, and other materials. A photograph may preserve something that cannot be physically held, while the objects I create attempt to give those impressions another kind of permanence.

At the heart of my work is an ongoing contemplation of grief, mourning, ritual, and the cycles surrounding life and death. Photography allows me to witness and remember these cycles in the world around me: what emerges, what changes, what is lost, and what remains. It is both a practice of looking and a practice of holding—an intimate way of marking time and paying attention to what matters.