Muir Woods Arch, 2025, Archival inkjet print, 30 x 30 inches
Sibley Serpent, 2025, Archival inkjet print, 15 x 9 inches
Perch, 2025, Van Dyke Brown print, 14 x 11 inches
Carter’s Pomegranate Tree, 2025, Mounted slide film, 2 x 2 inches
Ladybugs, 2025, Archival Inkjet print, 10 x 7 inches
Thalia, 2025, Van Dyke Brown print, 30 x 44 inches
Cross Arborglyph, 2025, Van Dyke Brown print, 7 x 5 inches
Susurration Book Spread, 2025, Handbound book, 8 x 7 x 0.75 inches
Hornbeam Branches, 2025, Archival Inkjet print, 12 x 30 inches
Open Arms, 2024, Silver gelatin print, 6 x 36 inches
Root, 2025, Van Dyke Brown and Solarfast print, 11 x 14 inches
Woods, 2025, Archival inkjet print, 17 x 11 inches
London Plane Bark Peel, 2025, Archival inkjet print, 8 x 8 inches
Daphne, 2025, Archival inkjet print, 80 x 40 inches
Myrrha, 2025, Van Dyke Brown and Solarfast print, 11 x 15 inches
Dryad, 2025, Archival inkjet print, 36 x 36 inches
Muir Woods Orb, 2025, Archival inkjet print, 12 x 12 inches
I love her, 2024, Collected index card, 3 x 5 inches
H Arborglyph, 2025, Archival inkjet print, 10 x 7 inches
H Skin Imprint, 2025, Archival inkjet print, 10 x 7 inches
Made the tree cry, 2024, Collected index card, 3 x 5 inches
Tiptoe, 2025, Archival inkjet print, 80 x 40 inches
“Do you know the word for the sound of the wind moving through the trees?”
I have a half-memory of my grandfather teaching me “susurration.” I’m told I was about four.
I have always loved climbing trees and the view at the top that was all my own for a moment. I’ve looked closely at one specific tree that I have grown up with, a European Hornbeam in Brenton Point park, Newport, RI. In a handbound book, I weave photographs spanning four years, personal prose, and selected stories from the 263 I collected from strangers. I was interested in learning what this tree has witnessed. Imagine standing in the same place for 150 years.
I picture the years of my life as concentric rings of a tree. The oldest, outer rings surround me now, here, on Earth, in the heartwood.
If the book is a tree, I treated the gallery wall as a forest. My body is fleeting and reappears through the portals between branches. I bring trees across New England and California into conversation with each other. Each image is treated as its own being. I think about how trees communicate invisibly through the air and underground. I am interested in the way trees hold history on a timeline longer than human lifespans, the way they have been mythologized, and the very real sanctuary they provide. Through my photographs and writing, I hope to highlight that we are not separate from but a reciprocally responsible part of nature.
