2 February, 6:40 a.m.






4 February, 6:23–6:27 p.m.





15 February, 6:30 a.m.






15 December, 6:15–6:16 p.m.





1 April, 7:57 a.m.






19 June, 9:42–9:53 p.m.






29 August, 8:23–8:28 p.m.






12 September, 8:26–8:46 p.m.






16 October, 5:56–6:00 a.m.






19 October, 6:01–6:07 p.m.






4 November, 6:37–6:39 a.m.






4 November, 6:48–6:49 a.m.





19 December, 8:13 a.m.






1 December, 6:24 a.m.






15 January, 5:45–5:48 p.m.






13 January, 6:53 a.m.




For a Field or an Empty Room was prompted by the question of whether I could photograph light and time like concrete things. I aim to speak to time as lived and felt rather than measured, and light as a subject above the surfaces reflecting it.


Most of these images show fields of bright cold color. These are long exposure photographs made before dawn and at the end of dusk in the field outside the house where I live. They show arrangements of glass and white paper. While photographing in the dark I cannot see the difference between glass and paper.

These images un-disappear what was previously lost for the eyes, brightening and bringing detail out of the dark. As these exposures happen, the quality of light shifts, the sky grows gradually darker or brighter, clouds move, and sometimes I block and shape the light with my body, affecting shadows, color, and reflections in the glass.

Between these color field images are other images of my apartment, the field outside, and adjacent spaces. I understand all of these images to be part of a single practice. They inform one another.

By photographing the same subject repetitively for an extended period, I study how sustained attention can spur consciousness of time, and how this changes the way time feels.

May 2023 – present