Artist Statement:
Night is both a refuge and a threshold—an in-between space where the familiar world is softened, stripped down, and recast in quiet, uncertain light. Albedo is an exploration of this liminality, a meditation on how darkness transforms the landscape, turning the ordinary into something unknowable.
Scientifically, Albedo refers to the measure of light reflected by a surface. Snow, with its high albedo, bounces light into the night, illuminating what would otherwise remain unseen. In winter, this effect is heightened—streetlights glow longer, headlights scatter across frozen roads, and even the dimmest bulbs hold weight in the dark. This phenomenon serves as both a visual and emotional metaphor within this work, capturing the tension between illumination and obscurity, presence and erasure.
Made over six winters, entirely at night using ambient light and long exposures, these photographs exist in a suspended state between clarity and dissolution. A tire swing drifts in the cold. A playground lies buried in snow, emptied of the voices that once filled it. Christmas lights flicker against the weight of winter, their glow fragile and persistent. Each image is a record of stillness, of waiting, of time accumulating like frost.
This work is deeply rooted in personal memory. As a child, night was the only time I felt safe. In darkness, the world quieted, and I could move unseen, existing on the edges of things. Albedo reflects this relationship with night—not as an absence, but as a presence, a slow and patient light that reveals just enough while leaving space for what remains hidden.
