In this first image, I feel as though I’m suspended behind a veil of stained glass — half emerging, half dissolving into light. The enamel on the glass softens my body, so I don’t look entirely solid or entirely spirit. I exist somewhere in between. The colour breaks me into glowing fragments, as if something larger is moving through me in that moment.
When you look at this photograph, I hope it slows you down. I hope it draws you inward. It’s an invitation to pause at the edge of yourself — where memory, presence, and the body begin to blur — and to feel what it might mean to gently come back together.
In this first image, I feel as though I’m suspended behind a veil of stained glass — half emerging, half dissolving into light. The enamel on the glass softens my body, so I don’t look entirely solid or entirely spirit. I exist somewhere in between. The colour breaks me into glowing fragments, as if something larger is moving through me in that moment.
When you look at this photograph, I hope it slows you down. I hope it draws you inward. It’s an invitation to pause at the edge of yourself — where memory, presence, and the body begin to blur — and to feel what it might mean to gently come back together.
