SONGS OF THE GRASSES

I find beauty in fracture, in decay, in the delicate moments of wind and movement. I am drawn to what is fragile and what endures, to what breaks, dries, frays and falls apart. A torn leaf, a split stem, a seed husk emptied of its purpose, the remains of a flower after bloom – each carries the quiet evidence of time passing through it.

And yet nothing here is only an ending. Dryness gives way to dew, dormancy to movement, disappearance to renewal. The grasses inhabit a world of impermanence and return, where vulnerability and resilience are not opposites, but woven into the same rhythm.

I look for the tension between stillness and movement, weight and wind. I try to catch the instant when a stem yields, when soft fibres hold the morning dew, when something weightless is carried by a breath of air. These fleeting gestures reveal a life that is both precarious and persistent.

The closer I look, the less certain the boundary becomes between looking outward and an inward knowing. In these small forms I find traces of our own condition: the need to endure, the inevitability of change, the beauty of what cannot remain whole.

These photographs emerge from hills I have walked since childhood, a landscape I thought I knew. Through the intimacy of the lens, the familiar continues to reveal what had remained unseen. Together, the photographs form a quiet song of fracture and renewal, disappearance and return, each carrying its own rhythm within the turning of the seasons.