Bygone Eras

What pieces or projects have you been working on lately?
I’ve always been obsessed with bygone eras—the cars, the fashion, the music, and the way we’ve evolved as a society. But more than anything, I’m drawn to architecture: the designs that were brought to life decades ago and that have, in many cases, been left almost entirely unchanged. An old diner. A motel from the 50s. A brownstone whose facade can’t be altered thanks to local preservation laws.

Recently, I spent time in the New York City archives tracing SoHo back nearly 100 years. I mapped out the streets, tracked down archival photographs of specific corners, buildings, and blocks, then walked those same streets, recreating the exact views with my camera in the present day. It became a dialogue between past and present—standing in the same spot decades later and seeing what time chose to preserve.

What did you learn (or unlearn) while working on them?
Alongside that, I’ve been working on a quieter project I call my tabletop series. It’s much simpler in concept, but something I’ve returned to over the past year. I love setting a table, cooking the food, preparing the space, and visualizing the shot. It’s not just about photographing food, but about creating a table that feels inviting and intentional. After all, who doesn’t love a good spread?

Working on these projects taught me to slow down and look beyond what initially draws me in. I’ve always known I love vintage spaces, but approaching them with research and comparison instead of instinct alone shifted how I see them. It wasn’t just about photographing an old building anymore—it became about understanding its surroundings: the streets it lives on, the rhythm of the neighborhood, the people and energy that once moved through those spaces and still do.

The tabletop series ended up teaching me something different, and in many ways, something deeper. It pushed me to be more intentional—to take moments that feel ordinary, like making dinner after work, and give them significance. I learned that even an at-home meal can feel purposeful and chic. The way food is plated, how everything is laid out at once, almost like a small feast, can turn something routine into something worth lingering over.

What words, ideas or emotions were going through your head?
While working on these projects, the words and emotions that kept resurfacing were nostalgia, intention, and presence. There was a constant awareness of time—what once was, what remains, and what has quietly disappeared. Standing in the same place decades later brought a sense of reverence and curiosity, a desire to honor what existed before while documenting how it lives on today.

With the tabletop series, the emotions shifted toward intimacy and care. It was about slowing down, being present, and finding beauty in the everyday. Turning something as simple as a meal into a moment felt grounding and comforting.

Were there any conversations, movies, music, or books that made their way into that work?
Music played a big role in shaping the mood of both projects, especially jazz. For the architecture work, I leaned heavily into artists like Stan Getz, Billie Holiday and Glenn Miller. Listening to them helped me slow my pace and made the experience feel more cinematic and grounded in history.

For the tabletop series, the influence was still jazz, but more contemporary. The music felt looser and more intimate, matching the rhythm of cooking, setting a table, and moving through a space at home.

What's been the most difficult thing you've faced recently in your creative process?
The most difficult thing I’ve faced lately has been committing to a project I truly care about and can stay invested in over time. It’s easy to start something, but harder to find an idea that continues to hold my attention beyond the initial spark.

What is your favorite restaurant and what do you recommend we order?
My favorite restaurant right now is Excellent Dumpling House. Their pork soup dumplings are a must — perfect for the cold New York weather right now.

If your life were a movie this month, what would it be called and who would write the soundtrack?
If this month were a movie, the title would be Bundling Up for 30. It feels like bracing for impact while also realizing I’ve already made it through the hardest parts. The soundtrack would be by The Paper Kites—folky and reflective, but with a few songs that really move. It feels grown, grounded, and quietly emotional.

Which studios, laboratories, or workshops have you collaborated with recently or would you like to collaborate with in the future?
Recently, I collaborated on behind-the-scenes photography for the short film Angels Pull Your Hair. I had the opportunity to shoot the entire project on film, which felt especially meaningful given how physical and intentional the medium is. I even incorporated my 3D film camera to capture a few moving stills, adding another layer of experimentation to the process. I’d love to collaborate more moving forward, especially with people and brands in a behind-the-scenes capacity. I’m drawn to projects where I can document the process and tell a story as it unfolds.

Recommend one or more artists you follow who inspire you, and tell us what you like most about their work or their way of working.
There are so many photographers I follow, but one recent favorite has been Andrei Kostromskikh. I have a longstanding fascination with Paris, and the way he captures the city feels effortless and timeless. His work, especially the recent snow photos, is incredibly pleasing to me visually. I’m usually left thinking, I wish I took that, or I wish I were standing in that exact moment.