As a photographer, I am interested in how the captured image articulates expressions of transience. I explore this fluency using film and a Holga, an inexpensive plastic lens camera with minimal controls for focus and exposure. This approach allows me to embrace a lo-fidelity aesthetic that employs traditional imperfections—such as soft focus, distortion, and light leaks—to suggest atmospheres of memory and daydream. For me, this optical environment amplifies the ephemeral and uncanny quality of the peculiar among the quotidian.  

The shore is a liminal zone. As land and sea edge out and meet, a shared periphery aligns the elements. The shore is also a shape-shifter: aquatic at night, granular during the day. Equal parts confluence and friction, the shore exists in a state of becoming—transformative and disruptive. 

Hunting Island in South Carolina has one of the highest erosion rates on the East Coast, according to the United States Geological Survey. The 5,000-acre semitropical barrier island suffers major beach erosion at a rate of fifteen to thirty feet per year, caused by heavy tides from the meeting of the Atlantic Ocean and Saint Helena Sound. 

Wave after wave, the sea claims the wet, white sand. Under this long reach, the maritime forest of Hunting Island recedes, leaving behind a boneyard of sun-bleached trees. Baring their grain, branches grow into their shadows in air heavy with light. Forms emerge and extend even as they writhe to an afterlife. 

As a foreshadow, remnants of the forest inhabit an architecture of subtraction. Wave-churn and root-clutch intimate shifting phases, interstitial rhythms. In this in-between space, recurrent lines drift. The day ends equal to the momentum of the shadowing light.