Final Crit
New color for the truck images
2 new pics
I feel like I need to connect my settings

seen from South Africa
seen from Paraguay
seen from Canada
seen from Russia

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Brazil

seen from United States

seen from Israel
seen from United States

seen from Israel
seen from Germany
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Indonesia

seen from Ireland
seen from Russia
Final Crit
New color for the truck images
2 new pics
I feel like I need to connect my settings
Academic Text:
Daniel
Reading Tina Campt’s second chapter, I kept returning to this idea of a hum — a vibration beneath the surface of an image that resists its stillness. I think that’s what I’m most drawn to when I photograph: the tension between what appears static and what’s quietly moving underneath. I’ve been thinking a lot about how bodies, even when posed, carry traces of something uncontrollable — desire, discomfort, resistance — that slips past intention. Campt calls this stasis, and I feel it constantly when I’m behind the camera.
Lately I’ve been trying to photograph those frequencies rather than the gestures themselves. I’m less interested in what is happening than in the pressure of what’s trying to happen. A hand that doesn’t know where to rest, a look that arrives a second too late — those are the moments that hum for me. They feel like the visible edges of something unspoken.
Maybe that’s why I’ve been drawn to working with environments and objects that are slightly out of place — a body inside a domestic space that wasn’t meant for it, a found object treated like a relic. These small dissonances create their own form of vibration, revealing the contradictions we carry.
Campt’s writing made me realize that listening to images is also about listening to ourselves as we make them — to the histories we’re invoking, the archetypes we’re repeating or breaking. The photograph is never truly silent. If you lean close enough, you can hear it breathe.