Mora
In poetry and music, a “Mora” is the smallest unit of rhythmic time. A measured pause between what comes before and what follows. That is what these photographs pursue. Not the sand or the sky, but the interval where they meld. Floating in a void of light and color, with little sense of direction. Walls of gleaming white acting as a mirror to the giant New Mexico sky. A landscape stripped of every familiar reference point, reduced to nothing but luminance, color, shape, and atmosphere.
Latent Figures
In the vast badlands of northern New Mexico, earth is moved, carved, and shaped by wind, snow and rain. Over time, the weather strips away soft soil, revealing hardened shapes and structures within. What remains are not sculptures placed by human hands, but forms revealed by time itself. Delicate pillars, improbable capstones, and sinuous lines. My images are an attempt to capture these unusual geological formations and surrounding environment.
Fragments
Heat and time split and crack the desert surface of northern Nevada. These intimate portraits are close studies of the thin edge, the fractured face, light pooling in fractures and pockets.
Passage
Passage is a collection of photographs made during the fleeting minutes around sunrise and sunset in the American West. Each image captures the brief interval when the land is illuminated not by direct sunlight, but by its last, scattered traces. In this soft light, forms lose their sharpness, colors deepen, and the boundary between night and day grows thin. The work reflects a fascination with these fragile moments, when time seems to slow and beauty reveals itself only for an instant.
Lithic
Utah holds some of the most ancient and undisturbed land on the continent. Spanning millions of acres of federal public land, this open, largely untouched desert preserves raw geological time. The red, orange, and white geology of mid-Utah holds a particular fascination. These photographs move between the epic scale of this landscape and its quieter, more intimate moments.
Pale Basin
Gleaming white stone pillars and mounds rise from the earth, shaped over eons by wind, sun, and rain. The land feels pale, indifferent, and unfamiliar, a place in constant flux, slowly sculpting itself through time. No maps chart its boundaries, and no human hand has shaped its forms. These photographs capture a remote and little-known corner of the American West, where the forces of nature continue their patient work.
Currents
In Iceland’s coastal estuaries, glacial rivers meet the sea, carrying minerals, silt, and light across wide tidal flats and shifting sandbars. Where fresh water blends with salt, overlapping patterns of color emerge, visible most clearly from above.
Keeler
Once a settlement on the shores of a living lake, Keeler is now a dry and empty basin. Weathered homes, scattered possessions, and traces of lives long departed remain. Here, human ambition, capitalism, and the forces of nature meet in uneasy balance. These photographs document what is left of the town after its unintended environmental and economic collapse, following the construction of the Los Angeles aqueduct.
Highlands
In summer, snow and ice recede from Iceland’s mountainous interior, revealing vast fields of volcanic ash, basalt mountains, soft green moss, and estuaries of melted glacial water flowing towards the open sea. Sunlight is ever-present, dimming only for a couple of hours around midnight. The images in this series were captured on the ground and high above in the air.