Highland
Fractured Shape
Along the River Shannon, Ireland
Winters Memory
Absence in Place
Kinetic Energy
Whispers of the Sense
Below 5th Ave
Ghost of Glamour
Time Stained Surface
Dromore, Co. Kerry, Ireland
The Depth Between
One Palm
Touch Me Not
Motion Whispers
Aerialish
When Geometry Breaks
Somewhere Along 23rd Street
Skylight Guide
Hot Touch - Touching You
A Glance While Moving Through
Residual whispers that linger in the mind
My artistic vision is shaped by the environments I move through. I’m drawn to what surrounds us—whether it’s deliberate design or the accidental poetry of decay. The paths we travel, the quiet details we almost miss, the tension between a crisp, clean line and the slow erosion of a weathered façade—or even a rusted surface—each holds its own narrative. Emotion lives in these fragments. Through my work, I aim to hold that resonance—to capture not just what is seen, but what is felt: the stillness in motion, the breath inside a moment.
This series, though visually eclectic, is quietly interwoven. Each image speaks to the next—through a line that reappears, a shared atmosphere, a hush of recognition. These connections aren’t always immediate; they emerge gradually, like echoes carried on wind. Some images resist, some invite. But all reflect the rhythm of being—its calm and its chaos. At times, the flow is fluid and luminous; at others, it’s fractured, worn, and raw. Still, in every shift, I return to beauty—not the pristine, but the honest, imperfect kind that lingers.
Each photograph has its story. Not a story—the story. The instant the shutter clicked, something essential lodged itself in memory. The first image in this series was made from the window of a plane descending into New York City: a long exposure capturing motion and light. That descent always feels electric—life speeding forward beneath you, and yet, somehow, within the movement, a calm. Later, I found myself drawn to a striking yellow surface—vivid, but softened by rust. As I looked closer, geometry emerged from corrosion, a kind of order inside disorder. I made several images, unsure of their purpose, but sure of their pull. The final photograph is of a mannequin—so convincingly human she gave me pause—leaning against glass in an almost meditative pose. She became a kind of punctuation mark, a quiet presence that signaled the end. This is where the story pauses. For now.