As a writer, I am attentive to details and how our senses trigger deep emotions. As a scientist, I am curious about how the external world impacts the internal one. As someone with “synesthesia” where the brain innately creates color sensations in response to stimuli like language, movement or music, I have an affinity for vibrant colors.
I think my love for photography blossomed partly a result of my hating endings - photography is a way for me to cheat Time, to keep the sun above the horizon, to keep hot air balloons in the sky, to keep raindrops on the windowpane, and to keep my heart feeling like it did then.
Just like my Mom used to encourage me when I was little to "make a memory" with my eyes when I was sad about leaving a beautiful place behind, I have learned to "make a memory" of what I see - and what I feel - through words and photographs.
Places are magical. How do we know deep inside us that we must visit a place long before we even make plans to get there? How do some places pull us back, again and again and again, as though we have left an anchor there? And how to describe that feeling of returning and noticing that a place has changed and we have changed, yet we can somehow feel exactly as we once felt there?
Nostalgia must be one of the most complex and powerful emotions a heart can feel. An aching pull, melancholy and gratitude for a place and a time that mattered.
It's a feeling that has been present and familiar to me for as long as I can remember - a sort of sixth sense for me.
“Veni Etiam” is a Latin phrase meaning “come again”. In my photographic work, I celebrate the magical pull of places and the beauty of returning to them.
2. Details and the art of mindful observation
Details are often what make all the difference in a scene, mood or memory. Observing details affords us an opportunity to slow down, to feel something, to remember.
Photography for me is about noticing, celebrating and remembering not only the grandiose but (especially) the mundane.
3. The Sea and its tides
From my heart to yours,