The Journal

Soft Geometry

Old walls have memory. When a person stands inside that memory the photograph becomes a negotiation between eras.


The building was from 1972. It had been repainted at some point but the layers were thin enough that you could see the earlier colors through the current one — a kind of archaeological confession.

I placed the subject against the far wall not for compositional reasons but because that was where the light landed. The composition followed.

Old walls have memory. When a person stands inside that memory the photograph becomes a negotiation between eras. Who was here before. What they wanted. Whether they got it.

The subject told me afterward they felt strange during the session — observed by more than just the camera. I did not find that surprising.