Light Enough to Remember I

In Light Enough to Remember, the figure stands at the fragile edge between solidity and disappearance — a threshold where body becomes atmosphere. The water reflects and distorts, and light pours over the form like memory returning through time. The long shutter speed allows the human presence to stretch, dissolve, and reform, as if breathing with the world itself. This is not a portrait of a person but of existence mid-transformation — soft, elemental, aware. As Virginia Woolf wrote, “The past only comes back when the present runs so smoothly that it is like the sliding surface of a deep river.” Here, that river is both literal and metaphysical.