3 March, 6:04-6:05 p.m.

7 April, 8:03-8:04 p.m.

13 April 5:39 a.m.

15 April 5:39 a.m.

24 April, 8:34-8:39 p.m.

25 April, 8:07 p.m.

28 April, 8:17 p.m.

10 May, 5:24 a.m.

 29 April, 8:53-8:59 p.m.


19 May, 8:46-8:50 p.m.

31 May, 8:40–8:43 p.m.

2 October, 5:38-5:42 a.m.

16 October, 5:56-6:00 a.m.

4 November, 6:37-6:39 a.m.

4 November, 6:48-6:49 a.m.

1 December, 8:13 a.m.

13 January, 6:53 a.m.

8 March, 6:22-6:28 p.m.

Night Gardening is a novel history of light and air in the field outside the house where I live. Most of these photographs show clear glass against white paper. They were made in the dark at the end of dusk and before dawn. As these exposures happen, the quality of light shifts, the sky grows gradually darker or brighter, clouds move, and sometimes I diffract and shape the light with my body, affecting shadows and reflections in the glass. Colors in these images come from ambient light. Other photographs show my apartment and the field itself. 

The field, called K’tsi Mskodak in Abenaki, held a grove of red pines before colonization. Settlers felled them to be used as ship masts. Reflecting on the absence of those trees has become unavoidable. Over time, the glass and its vertically have taken on a memorial-like relation to the disappeared trees. 

I aim to see how many differences, no matter how subtle, can be drawn from this single nearly featureless subject. I am concerned with how these differences spur meaning – how sustained attention can change the shape the world takes.

May 2023 – present