There’s something almost violent about beauty when you strip away the bullshit, when you catch it mid-flight, suspended between intention and collapse. These frames don’t apologize. They don’t seduce with soft focus or beg you to find them profound. They just are, like a punch or a prayer, depending on what you brought with you.
The bodies here aren’t performing for you. They’re performing despite you, locked in this brutal conversation with gravity and will. Every tendon tells a story about sacrifice nobody asked for but everyone recognizes, that holy desperation of making something matter even when the world’s got its headphones on. These dancers exist in some frequency between rage and reverence, and the photographer had the stones to get out of the way and let that frequency hum.
This work respects its subjects enough to show them as they are: extraordinary humans doing impossible things for reasons that make no economic sense and all the emotional sense in the world. No romanticism, no condescension… just witness. That’s harder than it looks, and rarer than it should be.
On view FALL, 2021 through SPRING 2022