Farthest Breath
In these works, distance is not a barrier but a medium — a field where presence and absence shape each other. What unfolds here is not resolution but resonance: memory refracted through atmosphere, light stitched with noise, and survival charted across coordinates that may never be reached.
My materials carry fragments of signal: archival images, studio-born sediment, hand-drawn notations, broken tools, and ideological debris. Some are collected across landscapes — Icelandic lava fields, Texan skies, post-Soviet pins — others assembled in the studio through acts of framing, layering, and holding. Together they become architectures of longing, where frames are not only enclosures but directional devices — like windows of a spacecraft, or the calibrated lens of a drifting probe.
I often think of the Voyager: moving endlessly outward, tethered by the thinnest echo of signal, becoming more ghost than machine. My work asks what it means to remain in contact — to hold a gaze, even when the receiver is gone. These images are maps not of destinations, but of attempts. They measure what can be held, even as they point toward what escapes.
Here, gaugeable infinity becomes a practice: seeing not the infinite, but the farthest breath we can still describe. Each piece marks a signal received, a failed arrival, or a flicker mistaken for return. What remains is a quiet space — a trace field — for what has passed beyond knowing, yet still calls out to be seen.
Notes on the works
Farthest Breath – Marfa Lights, 2025
A distant light hovers at the edge of the frame — a signal seen, never understood. Held in walnut and anchored by mute instruments, the image holds its breath, suspended between drift and orientation.
Sunrise-002 (Quarried Measure), 2024
Accumulated spray paint sediment, extracted like stone, anchors a distant sunrise — measuring survival across forgotten labor and unreachable light.
Sunrise-003 (Measured by Traces), 2025
A structure mapped not by carving but by traces — a memory of light held in punctured, intuitive lines.
Gaugeable Sunset, 2024
Light captured at the visible edge — a sunset weighed against the remnants of vanished ideologies.
The Measured Half, 2025
A quiet calibration between sweetness and decay — a fruit measured not in ripeness, but in absence.
Your Distance is Light, 2025
Earth, sun, moon, gold, glass, Starrett, and the repurposed detritus of ideology become instruments for measuring the immeasurable.
You Are Fast, 2025
I trace landscapes of distance — between stars, between memories, between presence and departure — to offer a quiet place where beauty, motion, and tenderness endure without irony.
Sunset Overlay (Key to Nowhere), 2024
A sunset filtered through screens, glass, and forgotten boundaries; a lost key floats toward a fading light.
Lost Cat (Wandering Through Ash), 2024
A small cat, a distant eruption, a cooler summer — a fragile survivor wanders through ash, tracing loss and light.
My Infinite, Gaugeable, 2025
It’s a gaze stitched together with noise — with what the lens can’t resolve, with distances that fracture into pixels, with the silent stubbornness of wanting to see what’s not really visible.
