Nothing lasts. Everything is here, and I am reverent.
This body of work began as grief and became something more like gratitude. Photographs of family, mentors, landscapes, altars — people and places that have shaped me, most of them still here, all of them changing.
My siblings and I appear as silhouettes in the branches of trees, arranged like the devotional diptychs that pilgrims have carried for centuries. My own shadow crosses open fields. The trees in some of these images look like rivers, or like veins — the same pattern running in different scales.
Star photography is throughout. Long exposures that take ordinary Maine skies and make them strange, which is just what they are. A portrait of my mentor Ali holding a conch shell.
The compound photographs layer semi-transparent halftone prints on plexiglass — mentors, altar objects, landscape — stacked so that each element is visible through the others. The audio recordings go back to 2016. My grandmother's voice. Ali Lufkin's voice. Still here.
Everything continues in relationship to everything else.
