In early 2017 I began using a long lens, typically used for portraits, to shoot architecture.
It let me reach from the street to the tops of buildings, and along their facades. I fell quickly in love. The strangeness. The up-there-from-down-hereness. I began twisting, contorting, continuing in editing the play I started on the street. Gradually, I’ve found a consistent point of view. Shapes that start as distortions of the physical world, pushed further in post-production, into tiny dreamscapes. Maybe dreamscape is too big a word, because they’re fragments. If you saw their context, they’d fall right apart. Some magic is delicate.
But dreamscape is also a good word. I choose my images based on a feeling. Do they demand their own logic? Could I visit this place, if I weren’t limited by my limbs? Sometimes what starts as a faithful representation passes through abstraction, and becomes a reasonable-looking, very inhabitable place—a place I’ve visited many times—which absolutely does not exist. And some of them I absolutely recognize. Nostalgia for a place I’ve never been, or a strong call back to unfinished business in a dream.