The Shape of Emptiness
In 2020, we experienced shock when the pandemic killed hundreds of thousands of people and forced us into isolation. Death lurked outside of our doors and we were mostly alone. I was no exception. Fearful and cut off from others, I faced the reality that I could die. My parents could die. My friends could die.
For months, I breathed the thought that the dust devil of matter that has spun up to form us will return to the dirt and clouds. And that will be it. The impermanence of existence was thick and inescapable. With my internal chaos, I went in search of imagery that would help me understand. I sought solace. I wandered and discovered once busy spaces, infused with a sense of quiet. In these spaces, I could see the place for what it was rather than the activity
This is not the first time I have photographed parking garages. The transience, efficiency, and sparseness are an odd refuge. When the pandemic arrived, the spaces emerged more completely for what I had always appreciated about them.
As I reflect on the shocks I have experienced, I see that each has allowed a bit more intimacy with the light that infuses the silent places. There is a beauty that arises in the absence of that which is normally present, both in ourselves and in our world. In emptiness, the light which is
