Statement
Sky Mirrors
As children, we see before we know what we are seeing. Structure and color arrive whole, without names. Slowly, language, both verbal and visual, takes over, and with it Form, which sorts the world in advance, setting expectations and quietly dulling our capacity to perceive what is actually in front of us.
During childhood, my family traveled frequently, as my mother was an architecture critic. Wherever we went, we looked at buildings. Child that I was, I assumed everyone did it. Looking up at towers was simply the main activity in a new city, and their glass faces held whole cities of their own: bent, layered, floating above the street.
Sky Mirrors returns us to those imaginary cities. Photographed in 2026 in Chicago, Seattle, and Santiago, Chile, the series finds them in the reflections of glass facades, where a building’s rigid grid holds a world that has come loose. Neighboring buildings fold into one another, balconies ripple like water, brick and foliage dissolve into color. The grid gives the eye something to hold on to; the reflection refuses to settle. Between the two, the habits that let us stop seeing the city are briefly suspended.
Artists are often asked whether they are drawn more to structure or to color. I can’t separate them. Both are parts of something larger: the emotional charge of an image held in the mind, and the feeling of the world before it was organized for us. That world was one of immanently resolved, unified cacophony, immensely beautiful.
As life grows faster and more saturated with information, many of us are searching for an underlying structure that still carries meaning. These photographs are my attempt at one: a reflection back toward an earlier way of seeing, offered in the hope that it brings you closer to your own.