About the Book

While I have been photographing for as long as I can remember, a couple of years ago I recovered from a concussion which both impaired my cognitive functioning, and changed how I saw overall. The book presents a conceptual re-interpretation of my photographic archive, where I have re-edited years of old and new work, into a new whole - in a way that both mirrors the cognitive changes I went through, and has helped me heal.

The result is a visual journey made up of stitched together fragments which are connected - through colour, energy, meaning, and aesthetic. The book is edited in such a way that the meaning of the images is determined by those that precede and follow it. I see it a bit like a film made from found footage, but here the footage is my own, and I am piecing it together anew.

The book is divided into the four seasons, ver (spring), hiems (winter), autumnus (fall), and aestas (summer), symbolizing in this context the various stages that bridge the moments before, during, and after transformational moments. The linearity of the seasons is disrupted throughout the book through the use of translucent pages, highlighting their transformation. In ver the book opens with a stream of dreamy and very light images, representing peace and stasis, these are the moments before. In hiems, the pallet turns very cold, the images are set on black, with various figures in states of flight or distress. Autumus presents moments of both discovery and decay, dual aspects of healing processes, and finally, aestas, features a return to the vitality of the outside world.

Photography has always been both my profession, and my way of processing the world. Through the lens, I shaped moments into stillness, freezing time and taking a piece of it with me. But my injury stole that from me: my movements were restricted, and my senses dulled, leaving me with little more than my own thoughts and the slow decay of the things around me. As I recovered, I picked up my camera again and began to explore, first myself through self portraiture,  but eventually everyday happenings inside my apartment.  Fruits rotting on the kitchen counter or the slow crawl of mold on forgotten leftovers,—all became a meditation upon, and an acceptance of the impermanence that we so often refuse to acknowledge.