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40x50
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A Space I Will Never Return To
There are spaces I know I will never enter again. Before leaving them for the last time, I take a photograph, almost as a self-portrait. I rarely appear directly; instead, I exist as a reflection, a shadow, or sometimes both. Through glass, overlapping surfaces and layers of light, my image fragments and multiplies, becoming part of the space itself. These photographs are a way of marking a final presence in places I am about to lose. They hold the trace of a moment in which I am still there, even as I become absent. The space remains, but my relationship to it ends. What is left is a blurred imprint of myself, suspended between presence and disappearance, memory and forgetting. Each image becomes a quiet act of farewell, a way of leaving something of myself behind in a place I will never return to.