The images grew out of long, slow walks and pilgrimages. I make photographs, both film and digital and, back in the studio, build small, temporary altars. The prints sit inside shadow boxes with plants, stones, and the kinds of man-made materials that pretend to be “natural,” gathered from footpaths and rummage bins.

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The work asks for an unhurried look. What do we pass each day without seeing? How long do these objects live beside us: leaf, rock, plastic, and what do they take or give to the places they inhabit? Many of the sites I photograph have endured for ages, yet now face fires, floods, and heat made worse by climate change.

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My approach is simple: arrive with every step, listen first, and meet each place with respect. I draw on ways of knowing that center reciprocity and kinship with land and water. The camera becomes a way to pause and notice the edges where one thing becomes another, river to shore, daylight to dusk, human-made to more-than-human.

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In each frame and altar, past and present touch. Thresholds invites you to move slowly, to sit with what is living and what is made, and to consider how attention and care might help us repair our shared ground. It is a return to the primordial through enchanted pathways. The imagery is guided by an animist ethos, celebrating the sacredness and sentience of the elemental with a reverence for indigenous knowledge systems across the world. With a reverent eye, the images appear numinous and permeable, cloaked in an uncanny aura, exuding a sense of awe and of the sublime.

 

Through them the distance to the deep ancestral past dissolves.