As this year and the magic of its journey come to a close, I want to wish you a warm season shaped by memories and care for one another. In moments that ask us to part, I hope we keep choosing to stay human, together. Safe travels, home. #photography
Connecting the image with a short series on what it takes to keep old dreams alive, tracing the ripples of how policy decisions shape everyday life—for the many, and for the few.
With the town’s budget due next week, this scan from the project reflects a scar in local lore: a space once intended to be a public swimming pool, now facing uncertain times. #photography
I keep wondering how the choice of full or partial bleed can shape tension within a body of work. I still struggle with this approach, feeling the need to respect the edges that images create. I would love to hear how others approach this. #photography
The slight off‑centre placement in the last post changed how the image settled in the space. Small movements can alter how a picture breathes, reminding me that flow is shaped by where an image begins and ends. Experimenting how far we can push our own boundaries while letting the work remain open.
After last week’s post on duality, I’ve been drawn to how layout choices can carry a quiet pull. Working with partial bleeds, I find myself resisting the urge to lock the edit into structure, while still keeping the image held in place. The edges can guide the reading, shifting the weight on a page.
First snow, #photosketching
#Photography reminds me that a slight change in where we stand can reveal a new angle on the same tension. Two frames may hold different truths, yet still converge around what binds the space, a tension that belongs both to the protagonist, and author.
Standing before a fence, I think about the duality of man. Two surfaces differ, yet both draw the eye toward the space between them. The greys shift, and what once felt solid begins to soften at the edges. #photography
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#photography
I thought it would be fun to try something different. Instead of single posts, I’ll share a short series from one film roll. It’s an interesting exercise, trying to edit a narrative of tension within the limits of 36 frames. I’m searching to connects valleys and peaks within those boundaries.
Thank you for the kindness. It’s a different mindset, searching for the tension in color.
Sunday wandering #photography
Flakse: a Norwegian word for the gentle flutter of wings, a brief movement that disturbs still air. It is how space shifts, how light adjusts, how small moments can carry the weight of our times. Within frames, we try to hold these quiet shifts, shaping how we see. #photography
Nothing is lost, nothing is created, everything is transformed. The shipyard changed and the frame shifted. And still, something carries forward, over the water. I wonder, will this space find a new rhythm, and another way to bridge the gap.
Perhaps this challenge is part of what keeps the process alive. Reflecting on new perspectives disturbs old habits, inviting another way of seeing what was always there. In these crossings, between direction and form, the narrative quietly continues.
For years, I have worked almost entirely in the vertical. It has shaped how I see and informs a narrative. Turning the frame sideways feels like unlearning a language. The tension shifts, and balance begins to ask a different why.
Poetry isn’t an island, it is the bridge.
Poetry isn’t a ship, it is the lifeboat.
Poetry isn’t swimming. Poetry is water.
- Kamand Kojouri
It reminds me that the work is not only about structure but connection. A bridge, like a frame, invites passage of the heart.
While editing, I’ve been curious about how the shapes of bridges inform silent transitions. They carry our weight and connections, yet always steadfast and grounded. Maybe a frame can act in the same way, bridging the past with the present.
