Listening to a fleeting whisper, sometimes the words are unintelligible, sometimes it seems like an internal, coded exchange.

These have been the underdog images, the quiet ones, those that have seeped up slowly through my projects, through the years of wandering. It’s often more contemplative work as a counterplay to the loud, documentary, Carnivalesque, direct, bright color work. I don’t have an exact answer why I like them, they just call to me. It may not be a loud klaxon. It could be a murmur in a breeze.

Don’t question the attraction to each scene, don’t ask the literal meaning of images, just allow them to be a canvas to portray stories, be it real or fictional. Just enjoy the action of relying purely on instinct, often not even directly understanding the attraction to the image.

There might be a little bit of nostalgia within them; a narrative might manifest itself after a closer look. Together, they interrogate the way we see and engage with images.

They amplify the mundane.