Mora
In poetry and music, a mora is the smallest unit of rhythmic time, a measured pause between what comes before and what follows. These photographs pursue that interval. Not the sand or the sky, but the place where they meet. White gypsum acts as a mirror to the New Mexico sky, dissolving the horizon. The landscape is reduced to luminance, color, shape, and atmosphere.
What Remains
In the badlands of northern New Mexico, earth is moved, carved, and shaped by wind, snow, and rain. Over time, the weather strips away soft white sandstone, revealing hardened shapes and structures within. What remains are not sculptures crafted by human hands, but organic forms revealed by time itself.
Surfacing
Heat and time split and crack the desert surface of northern Nevada. Seams, vents, fissures, and debris. These photographs are close studies of the ground, the broken edge, the pockets where light collects.
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.