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A landscape is not what the camera records. It is what the body carried away.

These works do not document a place. They hold the trace of a presence moving through it. The blur is not failure but evidence: of a body, a speed, a moment that refused to stay still long enough to be fixed.

Landscape photography has long demanded the invisibility of its maker. Here, the maker is visible in every frame. Not as subject, but as disturbance. The image trembles because a body was there.

What remains is not a record of what was seen. It is a record of the seeing itself.