I am obsessed with time. Making pictures is how I contend with this obsession.
Time moves too quickly. Moments immediately disappear and are mostly forgotten. Collectively, our lives are just a blip.
I was born into and have lived in many urban environments where I find myself simultaneously comfortable and on perpetual edge.
In the City, time moves particularly, violently fast — the only constant is unrepentant change.
It gives me a great relief that this disappearance can actually be stopped, at least through the form of a photograph.
The camera can pause time unlike any other instrument. This potential — to pause — is the essence of photography as I understand it and palpably feel it.
Moving through the world, I build my archive of photographs for months without reviewing the images I have made. This is an intentional hiatus, a period of waiting so that the photographic moment can breathe and also be separated from the experience of making the picture. This gap between the making and the looking is, for me, a physical and emotional demand before bringing a print to life.
A photographic print then has a chance to expand that moment into a larger, more open conversation between myself, future pictures, and ultimately, the viewer. Without photography, I do not know how I would make sense of our time — or my tenuous place within it.