For Retroperspective, I photographed over eighty individuals in the most serene setting I could create.
There was baby powder — soft, almost sacred — a scent and texture that brought people back to something childlike and pure. Once the air was still and the world fell quiet, each portrait felt more like sculpting than photographing.

My models became anonymous. They shed their names, their roles, even their stories. What remained was essence — a moment suspended in time.

After living with these portraits for over a year and a half, I began to reassemble them. I turned them into collages on wood: a retrospective, yes, but also something new. Fragments reconnected. The silence returned.

Though the series has often been linked to death, to me it’s about life. It’s about the peace I long for — that elusive state of omniscience and surrender I hope to reach before the end.