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Through Crying Windows

2024 - 2025

From a window covered in condensation during a quiet morning,
I realized that windows was not just a surface. 
It can also be a medium for memory. A filter between the world and the one observing it. 
The glass holds onto breath, temperature, and time as if it had been discreetly recording the presence of something within.

These photographs are taken through windows in various states of distortion. 
Fogged, wet or stained.
For some, that visual distortion might felt familiar. 

We use plenty of filters to see through our own eyes,
some as tools for better vision,
others are consequences of our feelings such as tears of joy or sorrow. 

Tears distort what we see, but they also reveal what we carry 
They soften the sharp edges of the world. 
We look outward when we cry, 
but we see inward too.

In that sense, 
these images are not about what lies beyond the glass. 
They are about the moment when perception becomes emotional. 
When clarity gives way to feeling. 
When the world becomes impressionistic, 
shaped by both light and longing.
These are not moments with explanations. 
They are states of being.  
Like memory trying to form an image but stopping just before the outlines harden.
There is a strange truth in what we see through water. 
Perhaps because the world is never quite objective. 
We see it through the weather of our own lives.

“We do not see space directly; we sense it through images that speak to our inner being.”

- Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space