Photography: Immersion
In the Hellenic tradition, Thalassa is the primordial sea — elemental, alive, and inseparable from the human body that enters it. Katharismos is the act of cleansing: a return to clarity through direct contact with water.
Photography runs through all of my work as a constant practical tool — keeping the eye sharp, tracking where my interests are moving, capturing quick color notes that inform the paintings and drawings. Occasionally it produces something more: a finished work in its own right.
These photographs were made from inside Sebago Lake in Maine — body in the water, camera held at the surface, looking down through crystal clear water at the lake bottom below. The images record what that immersion actually feels like from the inside: light fracturing through the surface, the sandy bottom in motion, unexpected abstract shapes emerging at the edges.
These images were made without a predetermined destination — unsure at the time whether they were finished works, studies for paintings, or something else entirely. That uncertainty was resolved not by the photographs themselves but by what came next: the breath drawings made from the trees, which offered something the camera couldn't — direct physical presence with a living subject through every season.
The invitation to the viewer is simple: not to observe the water but to remember what it feels like to be inside it.
New work in this series is in development.
In the Hellenic tradition, Thalassa is the primordial sea — elemental, alive, and inseparable from the human body that enters it. Katharismos is the act of cleansing: a return to clarity through direct contact with water.
Photography runs through all of my work as a constant practical tool — keeping the eye sharp, tracking where my interests are moving, capturing quick color notes that inform the paintings and drawings. Occasionally it produces something more: a finished work in its own right.
These photographs were made from inside Sebago Lake in Maine — body in the water, camera held at the surface, looking down through crystal clear water at the lake bottom below. The images record what that immersion actually feels like from the inside: light fracturing through the surface, the sandy bottom in motion, unexpected abstract shapes emerging at the edges.
These images were made without a predetermined destination — unsure at the time whether they were finished works, studies for paintings, or something else entirely. That uncertainty was resolved not by the photographs themselves but by what came next: the breath drawings made from the trees, which offered something the camera couldn't — direct physical presence with a living subject through every season.
The invitation to the viewer is simple: not to observe the water but to remember what it feels like to be inside it.
New work in this series is in development.
Above: Giclee Print: Archival Ink on Hahnemuhle Paper 18" x 24" (two images together)