The Stranger (2019)

Titled after Camus' L'Étranger, this series began with a simple question: what does disconnection actually look like? Meursault, the novel's narrator, moves through his own life without the reactions he's supposed to have. No grief at his mother's funeral. No urgency in love. No remorse. Not cruelty, exactly, just a kind of flatness that makes everyone around him uneasy. These photographs sit in that same register. Empty rooms, unremarkable light, people caught mid-thought and looking at nothing in particular. Nothing here is staged as tragedy. It's closer to the feeling of watching your own life from a slight distance, present but not quite involved. The series doesn't try to explain that feeling or resolve it. It's an attempt to hold it still long enough to look at.