People who have lived for generations in coastal villages have a bond with their environment that keeps them rooted to a place forever. Their homes perched close to the sea that sustains them, they draw the horizon close, never wanting to be anywhere else. Theirs’ is a precarious existence, always at risk of being shifted, yet this fact simply strengthens their bond. What it is about these hard places that brings out this loyalty and refusal to move somewhere easier? As a child of immigrants, I envy them, for when I look at that same horizon, I feel dislocation; of being steadily drawn towards “somewhere else” just beyond my view. Why are they so rooted, and I am not?

I am fascinated by early photographic processes, and have recently been using camera obscura and pinhole techniques to document exterior scenes as projected within historic buildings. When darkening individual rooms to allow only a tiny quantity of light into a space, exterior scenes appear, wandering across inside walls; the sun rising over the sea reflects above a bookshelf, or buildings are duplicated inside neighbouring structures. By recording these views over extended periods of time – throughout the day, and in varying weather and lighting conditions – I visually connect the built environment with exterior views that have remained constant, conceptualizing the notion of within/without, terms that are inseparable in the minds of those who depend on the land and sea for sustenance, regardless of what village or country they might live in.

Working in small houses, churches, a luxury resort and others, my images describe how a building, while often reflecting social differences or human history, also witnesses the incremental situational changes brought about by the relentless progression of time within a location.

Today's emphasis on digital technology has made the use of basic photographic processes almost obsolete; the ephemeral quality of these processes complements the nature of my subject, in that light, landscape and human situations are transitory, and will not last; a sentiment that has become even more relevant in recent years. By choosing these methods rather than a more contemporary approach, I also celebrate the origins of the medium and remind viewers of new/old ways of contemplating the inherent principles of photography.

Ultimately, I strive to make work that connects us to uncommon places; to develop a language for ideas that are difficult to describe using conventional words.

Archival pigment prints on Hahnemuhle cotton rag paper, ranging in size from 16 x 24” to 60 x 90”, mounted on aluminum panel, or suspended with gravity bars.