Dying Breaths

Dying Breaths

Tree #10 (37° 17′ 27.917” N, 80° 24′ 22.471″ W)

The images in Dying Breaths mark and memorialize time within the landscape of a remote forest. On nights in the winter months, while the forest was still and lifeless, the light of a portable flatbed scanner was used to record coexistent impressions of natural decay and human presence.

The series contrasts cross sections of dead trees and abstract impressions of human breath. Capturing these marks of death and life required intimacy, as only the portions of the subjects that physically touch the illuminated glass are seen, in excessive and clinical detail, before quickly falling off, out of focus and into a void of sublime blackness.

Differing senses of temporality flow between the two sets of imagery. The trees carry an enduring and timeless presence, but one that is undermined by the the finality of the incisions that cut them. From that moment, natural processes of decay begin to accumulate on the site of the incision. The scanner, placed directly on the mark of the cut, is particularly well suited to transcribe  and amplify the minute evidence of violence and decay.

Alongside these images that show the gradual progression of death are photographs of breath as it clings to and crystalizes on the cold glass of the scanner. A sign of life that is ephemeral and largely invisible is, again through the unique properties of the scanner, fixed into expansive compositions dense with granular details of life. Similar to the trees, these photographs arrest a unique and fleeting moment on the continuum between vitality and decay.

Taken together, the series is an anxious meditation on the passage of time, the transitory nature of our environment, and of our own impermanence. 

Dying Breaths

Dying Breaths

Breath #8 (6:38:56 AM, January 22, 2014)

The images in Dying Breaths mark and memorialize time within the landscape of a remote forest. On nights in the winter months, while the forest was still and lifeless, the light of a portable flatbed scanner was used to record coexistent impressions of natural decay and human presence.

The series contrasts cross sections of dead trees and abstract impressions of human breath. Capturing these marks of death and life required intimacy, as only the portions of the subjects that physically touch the illuminated glass are seen, in excessive and clinical detail, before quickly falling off, out of focus and into a void of sublime blackness.

Differing senses of temporality flow between the two sets of imagery. The trees carry an enduring and timeless presence, but one that is undermined by the the finality of the incisions that cut them. From that moment, natural processes of decay begin to accumulate on the site of the incision. The scanner, placed directly on the mark of the cut, is particularly well suited to transcribe  and amplify the minute evidence of violence and decay.

Alongside these images that show the gradual progression of death are photographs of breath as it clings to and crystalizes on the cold glass of the scanner. A sign of life that is ephemeral and largely invisible is, again through the unique properties of the scanner, fixed into expansive compositions dense with granular details of life. Similar to the trees, these photographs arrest a unique and fleeting moment on the continuum between vitality and decay.

Taken together, the series is an anxious meditation on the passage of time, the transitory nature of our environment, and of our own impermanence. 

Dying Breaths

Dying Breaths

Tree #2 (37° 17′ 28.691 N, 80° 24′ 22.939” W)

The images in Dying Breaths mark and memorialize time within the landscape of a remote forest. On nights in the winter months, while the forest was still and lifeless, the light of a portable flatbed scanner was used to record coexistent impressions of natural decay and human presence.

The series contrasts cross sections of dead trees and abstract impressions of human breath. Capturing these marks of death and life required intimacy, as only the portions of the subjects that physically touch the illuminated glass are seen, in excessive and clinical detail, before quickly falling off, out of focus and into a void of sublime blackness.

Differing senses of temporality flow between the two sets of imagery. The trees carry an enduring and timeless presence, but one that is undermined by the the finality of the incisions that cut them. From that moment, natural processes of decay begin to accumulate on the site of the incision. The scanner, placed directly on the mark of the cut, is particularly well suited to transcribe  and amplify the minute evidence of violence and decay.

Alongside these images that show the gradual progression of death are photographs of breath as it clings to and crystalizes on the cold glass of the scanner. A sign of life that is ephemeral and largely invisible is, again through the unique properties of the scanner, fixed into expansive compositions dense with granular details of life. Similar to the trees, these photographs arrest a unique and fleeting moment on the continuum between vitality and decay.

Taken together, the series is an anxious meditation on the passage of time, the transitory nature of our environment, and of our own impermanence. 

Dying Breaths

Dying Breaths

Breath #5 (7:03:45 PM, January 7, 2014)

The images in Dying Breaths mark and memorialize time within the landscape of a remote forest. On nights in the winter months, while the forest was still and lifeless, the light of a portable flatbed scanner was used to record coexistent impressions of natural decay and human presence.

The series contrasts cross sections of dead trees and abstract impressions of human breath. Capturing these marks of death and life required intimacy, as only the portions of the subjects that physically touch the illuminated glass are seen, in excessive and clinical detail, before quickly falling off, out of focus and into a void of sublime blackness.

Differing senses of temporality flow between the two sets of imagery. The trees carry an enduring and timeless presence, but one that is undermined by the the finality of the incisions that cut them. From that moment, natural processes of decay begin to accumulate on the site of the incision. The scanner, placed directly on the mark of the cut, is particularly well suited to transcribe  and amplify the minute evidence of violence and decay.

Alongside these images that show the gradual progression of death are photographs of breath as it clings to and crystalizes on the cold glass of the scanner. A sign of life that is ephemeral and largely invisible is, again through the unique properties of the scanner, fixed into expansive compositions dense with granular details of life. Similar to the trees, these photographs arrest a unique and fleeting moment on the continuum between vitality and decay.

Taken together, the series is an anxious meditation on the passage of time, the transitory nature of our environment, and of our own impermanence. 

Dying Breaths

Dying Breaths

Tree #18 (37° 17′ 28.381″ N, 80° 24′ 20.628″ W)

The images in Dying Breaths mark and memorialize time within the landscape of a remote forest. On nights in the winter months, while the forest was still and lifeless, the light of a portable flatbed scanner was used to record coexistent impressions of natural decay and human presence.

The series contrasts cross sections of dead trees and abstract impressions of human breath. Capturing these marks of death and life required intimacy, as only the portions of the subjects that physically touch the illuminated glass are seen, in excessive and clinical detail, before quickly falling off, out of focus and into a void of sublime blackness.

Differing senses of temporality flow between the two sets of imagery. The trees carry an enduring and timeless presence, but one that is undermined by the the finality of the incisions that cut them. From that moment, natural processes of decay begin to accumulate on the site of the incision. The scanner, placed directly on the mark of the cut, is particularly well suited to transcribe  and amplify the minute evidence of violence and decay.

Alongside these images that show the gradual progression of death are photographs of breath as it clings to and crystalizes on the cold glass of the scanner. A sign of life that is ephemeral and largely invisible is, again through the unique properties of the scanner, fixed into expansive compositions dense with granular details of life. Similar to the trees, these photographs arrest a unique and fleeting moment on the continuum between vitality and decay.

Taken together, the series is an anxious meditation on the passage of time, the transitory nature of our environment, and of our own impermanence. 

Dying Breaths

Dying Breaths

Breath #9 (9:41:04 PM, January 22, 2014)

The images in Dying Breaths mark and memorialize time within the landscape of a remote forest. On nights in the winter months, while the forest was still and lifeless, the light of a portable flatbed scanner was used to record coexistent impressions of natural decay and human presence.

The series contrasts cross sections of dead trees and abstract impressions of human breath. Capturing these marks of death and life required intimacy, as only the portions of the subjects that physically touch the illuminated glass are seen, in excessive and clinical detail, before quickly falling off, out of focus and into a void of sublime blackness.

Differing senses of temporality flow between the two sets of imagery. The trees carry an enduring and timeless presence, but one that is undermined by the the finality of the incisions that cut them. From that moment, natural processes of decay begin to accumulate on the site of the incision. The scanner, placed directly on the mark of the cut, is particularly well suited to transcribe  and amplify the minute evidence of violence and decay.

Alongside these images that show the gradual progression of death are photographs of breath as it clings to and crystalizes on the cold glass of the scanner. A sign of life that is ephemeral and largely invisible is, again through the unique properties of the scanner, fixed into expansive compositions dense with granular details of life. Similar to the trees, these photographs arrest a unique and fleeting moment on the continuum between vitality and decay.

Taken together, the series is an anxious meditation on the passage of time, the transitory nature of our environment, and of our own impermanence. 

Dying Breaths

Dying Breaths

Tree #14 (37° 17′ 20.091” Nn, 80° 24′ 22.453” W)

The images in Dying Breaths mark and memorialize time within the landscape of a remote forest. On nights in the winter months, while the forest was still and lifeless, the light of a portable flatbed scanner was used to record coexistent impressions of natural decay and human presence.

The series contrasts cross sections of dead trees and abstract impressions of human breath. Capturing these marks of death and life required intimacy, as only the portions of the subjects that physically touch the illuminated glass are seen, in excessive and clinical detail, before quickly falling off, out of focus and into a void of sublime blackness.

Differing senses of temporality flow between the two sets of imagery. The trees carry an enduring and timeless presence, but one that is undermined by the the finality of the incisions that cut them. From that moment, natural processes of decay begin to accumulate on the site of the incision. The scanner, placed directly on the mark of the cut, is particularly well suited to transcribe  and amplify the minute evidence of violence and decay.

Alongside these images that show the gradual progression of death are photographs of breath as it clings to and crystalizes on the cold glass of the scanner. A sign of life that is ephemeral and largely invisible is, again through the unique properties of the scanner, fixed into expansive compositions dense with granular details of life. Similar to the trees, these photographs arrest a unique and fleeting moment on the continuum between vitality and decay.

Taken together, the series is an anxious meditation on the passage of time, the transitory nature of our environment, and of our own impermanence. 

Dying Breaths

Dying Breaths

Breath #14 (8:34:57 PM, November 21, 2014)

The images in Dying Breaths mark and memorialize time within the landscape of a remote forest. On nights in the winter months, while the forest was still and lifeless, the light of a portable flatbed scanner was used to record coexistent impressions of natural decay and human presence.

The series contrasts cross sections of dead trees and abstract impressions of human breath. Capturing these marks of death and life required intimacy, as only the portions of the subjects that physically touch the illuminated glass are seen, in excessive and clinical detail, before quickly falling off, out of focus and into a void of sublime blackness.

Differing senses of temporality flow between the two sets of imagery. The trees carry an enduring and timeless presence, but one that is undermined by the the finality of the incisions that cut them. From that moment, natural processes of decay begin to accumulate on the site of the incision. The scanner, placed directly on the mark of the cut, is particularly well suited to transcribe  and amplify the minute evidence of violence and decay.

Alongside these images that show the gradual progression of death are photographs of breath as it clings to and crystalizes on the cold glass of the scanner. A sign of life that is ephemeral and largely invisible is, again through the unique properties of the scanner, fixed into expansive compositions dense with granular details of life. Similar to the trees, these photographs arrest a unique and fleeting moment on the continuum between vitality and decay.

Taken together, the series is an anxious meditation on the passage of time, the transitory nature of our environment, and of our own impermanence.