I’m drawn to patterns, intersecting systems, and negotiated space.

For me, photography began as a way to explore designed systems. Museums, train stations, libraries, public plazas — most are monuments to the philosophy of the architect or planner behind them. I gravitated toward monumental architecture because I enjoyed teasing out the intentions of the designer.

I became obsessed with patterns and form. I learned the basics of composition and began to frame structures through my camera.

Soon I started to pay more attention to the people that populated these spaces. They complicated the original intentions, redefined and repurposed them. These monuments weren’t designed, they were negotiated, and made alive in the process.

I turned back to these built environments, wondering: Which were designed with people in mind? Which embraced this ongoing process of negotiation? Which actively resisted it?

I changed from observer to inspector, using my camera to wonder out loud about the relationships between objects and spaces and people.

My love of patterns extends to the natural world, too. The constant negotiation of space that defines the built environment is just as apparent among plants and water and weather patterns.

I’ve been unable to resist the same attractions that show up in my architectural photography: The play between the environment’s structure and scale on the one hand and the individual on the other.

Portraits are where I’m least comfortable. They’re furthest from the themes I’ve been exploring elsewhere, and I’m still learning how to put people at ease in front of the camera. Anna is my favorite and often sole subject.