The French term for still life, serves as both title and quiet philosophy for this body of work. Created in 1985 with a one-hundred-year-old 8×10 view camera, these photographs exist outside of haste, shaped by patience, weight, and intention. The camera itself, with its deliberate pace and physical presence, demanded a way of seeing that honored time as much as form. Each exposure was an act of slowing down, a negotiation 

between light, memory, and restraint.

 

The objects that inhabit these compositions were gathered over years of wandering: fragments from the streets of Brooklyn, weathered remnants discovered in Paris, and overlooked 

treasures found in flea markets across Oklahoma. Separated from their original function, these objects became actors in quiet narratives. A chipped bottle, a rusted tool, a folded piece of paper—each carries the invisible imprint of hands, places, and moments. In Nature Morte, they are given a second life through careful arrangement and light.

 

Rather than documenting the objects themselves, the photographs seek what lingers between them. Shadows, surfaces,

and negative space become as important as the objects they surround. The stillness is intentional, yet never empty. 

Each composition is a short story, suspended in time, inviting the viewer to step inside and be lost in the moment. There is no prescribed beginning or end, only suggestion, memory, and quiet tension.

 

Working in large format allowed for extraordinary detail and tonal depth, revealing subtleties that reward prolonged looking. These photographs ask for attention, not consumption. Nature Morte is less about still life as a genre and more about stillness as an experience—an exploration of how ordinary, discarded things can carry poetic weight when seen with care. In their silence, these images speak.

 

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