The Space Between
The Space Between is a meditation on the interval where agency occurs: the pause between stimulus and response. Viktor Frankl described this as the site of freedom — where we choose, where we grow.
I'm treating it not as a concept to illustrate, but as a landscape to travel through: a place the mind moves across before it commits.
The photographs return to thresholds and thin places — filters, seams, shadows, edges, openings — moments when the world feels slightly undecided.
This work invites a particular kind of attention: one that can tolerate ambiguity, notice small shifts, and remain present before response becomes reflex.
Grounded in ordinary materials but aimed at something interior and ongoing: the lived experience of the space between stimulus and response itself.
Portfolio
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The Space Between
Untitled, Yet It Is - Not arrived, not gone; echoes between worlds persist. Dreamlike paths emerge.
Remnants of Things Left Behind - Left behind whispers; fragments grow, feeding forward. — The past is prologue.
Oblique Views - Trust the gathering; intuition knows what holds. Unseen threads connect.
Homographs - Contexts shift and merge, Meaning bends, meaning rewrites. — The space between breathes.
These photographs were mined from a 25-year archive and made new through the four mindsets above intertwining and doubling back on each other. Follow what draws your attentions.
The larger project exists as a box of 104 prints, used to arrive at this current edit.
The story so far...
This project began as Untitled, Yet It Is.
In 2020—during COVID—it started in a “mining your archive” workshop. I began pulling photographs forward, looking for connections and following faint signals amid noise. The first set of work prints for what would become the collection was made in May 2020. 3 images from that original set remain in the portfolio.
In September I self-published my first book (In the Footsteps of Alfred) and I was hooked — I was going to make another. The first book dummy for this work appeared in 2021. By then, the project was already a year old, and the feeling of being about something were there but just out of reach— the spine of the book didn’t exist. I tried to force it: revision after revision, tightening and reshuffling, but the sequences wouldn’t fully connect because the underlying structure hadn’t revealed itself yet.
Later in 2021, during an Atelier workshop and exhibition at the Griffin Museum of Photography, the name The Space Between arrived. It didn’t clarify the territory—at least not yet. It simply gave the search a name.
The project was still a book in search of an idea, now with a growing stack of dummies as artifacts of the process. I kept shooting, editing, and testing—revision after revision—trying to find a spine that would finally connect what I was making.
The Space Between evolved dramatically through two shooting practices that came from a simple need: to stop thinking about the book and make new work.
Oblique Views and Remnants of Things Left Behind were that reset—two projects made by returning to the world with different kinds of attention. Oblique Views captured a practice of looking askance—trusting intuition, working in single visits, letting faith and time guide open eyes. Remnants of Things Left Behind deepened the inquiry through repeat visits to a location, staying with what remains after departure—evidence of presence, history, and legacy—until the residue began to feel like an “other world.”
Once they existed, these two bodies of work came together quickly. They gave the larger project fresh momentum and new material that finally began to cohere with what the earlier dummies had been searching for.
What finally pulled these threads into the spine of a book was a perception practice that allowed new work to integrate: Homographs—a commitment to sequencing as meaning-making, where context shifts and merges and each image binds to the one before and after it. That sequencing logic turned a growing archive into an instrument: a way to feel the interval where interpretation hasn’t landed yet.
The project isn’t a closed set; it’s a living grammar and practice—mined, made, and re-made. To that end, The Space Between became a container about becoming: a box of prints (Approximately 100 photographs mined and made within these practices mentioned above) designed to be spread out on a table and explored in motion. Follow any path. Let one image change the meaning of the next.
Notice how sequencing creates context—and how context reshapes what you think you’re seeing.
This sequence is the result of that exploration.
(c) 2026