This project is a tender excavation of memory, of love, of what remains after rupture. Across a sequence of layered images, hand-finished prints, and symbolic materials, I’ve built a visual language of healing. Torn edges, sky textures, digital overlays, fabric fragments, and soft light form an emotional rhythm of reflection and return.

Each image is constructed from layered photographs and symbolic visual elements. Moiré patterns and digital interface evoke transition and memory. The analog and the digital meet in quiet conversation. Every piece is presented as a small Hahnemühle German Etching print placed over a magnetized maple dye sublimation panel, held together by a spherical neodymium magnet.

A layered diptych made of two interrupted surfaces. Above, a digital screen shows a sky scattered with soft clouds, overlaid with the Find and Replace function from a Numbers spreadsheet. The word love has been entered in the search field. Below, a cropped detail of a white bedsheet evokes the shape of a distant landscape. Both halves are subtly distorted by moiré patterns and sensor glitches, small technical artifacts that resemble fingerprints or static. The digital and physical blend into each other like a memory that cannot be clearly sorted.

A softly blurred self-portrait set against a pale, nearly white sky. I am dressed in a summer-yellow dress, red hair catching ambient light, surrounded by lush greenery. Faint overlays hover. The word Love from Threshold is barely visible in my head, like a whispered thought. A ghost-grid of Numbers spreadsheet cells floats across the background and my right hand. These marks repeat like a visual hum.

A gentle composite of two elements: the fold of a bedsheet and the waves of Mutiny Bay. It looks like a quiet waterscape, but the dissolving edges and layered textures hint at something deeper. A faint conversation bubble hovers in the sky. Three soft dots wait mid-message. No words arrive. The absence speaks. The image folds into itself over and over, inviting stillness and reflection.

This image began as a straightforward landscape, foggy, minimal, even forgettable. But when I layered in the soft, macabre tones of a dahlia, my favorite flower, it took on emotional resonance. That flower was once given away during a tender exchange. This is my first landscape in the series, and like the act of giving a bloom, it holds quiet generosity and creative transformation.

A feather considers its direction, suspended between weight and choice. Blue speaks of truth, 26 of vows: what rises from reckoning.

Two birds sit on a wire that resembles a stitched seam. One is solid, the other ghosted. A moment of closeness, barely held.

I made this image quietly, before I knew what it meant. It came from a place that wanted repair but didn’t yet know how. I see now that even the attempt was an act of care.

Mend is about longing and about learning to live with what is unresolved. It is about the tenderness of trying. The seam holds. The wire carries.

Sometimes mending isn’t repair. It is noticing the space and choosing to stay soft inside it. The wire doesn’t break. The birds remain.

A pure bluebird sky holds a migrating flock, captured on a day of awe. Its manipulated twin overlays imperfectly, adding two birds in the process, removing others. Love renders imperfectly.

The paper print presents the moment untouched. No overlays. No interface. Just the purity of presence. Light, lens, and sky.

The panel print reminds me that sometimes we are in the right place at the right time. Sometimes we gain something.

This is a rendering of memory, of pattern, of possibility.

I kept circling this image, unsure if it was too soft or too much. But healing asks us to hold both: the offering and the ache, the memory and what it asks of us now.

These roses were gathered by his hands from his garden and offered without knowing their weight. This image holds my gratitude for his tenderness, his care, and the love we did share. The red dahlia, blooming and dark, says what I couldn’t at the time. Some things are given without staying, but they leave beauty behind.

Double Layers, a story told in sky and skin, code and memory.

Double Layers

Out of My System