a visual love letter to the melancholic but ephemeral moment we call blue hour.
light has faded and objects become hard to distinguish from the background or each other. they seem more like silhouettes in the steely light with shadows so soft and gloomy. our color-vision gives way to shades of tungsten as there is no longer enough light for our eyes to differ between detailed color schemes. the city turns cold and the blue scenery adds a dark, dramatic quality to its character.
a fragile few minutes, that I deeply romanticize, as the light gently turns from warm orange to the cooler, blue hues of blue hour — before the night sets in and takes over.
Editions based on my blue hour work.
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An exploration of my own self looking for answers to why I am drawn to creating at night.
I watched him die for 8 years. Every night I was frightened, hiding under my blanket covering my ears, wishing this was all just a bad dream I will soon wake up from.
At night, that's when life would remind us of his illness, and the things we learned how to hide during the day would show. We were falling, everyone at their own pace, hitting a new rock bottom every night. I still remember how it feels to hug you.
At night, I'm closest to my feelings and most honest with myself. It might also be a reminder that the night can in fact be beautiful and has more to offer than tears and pain.
To this day I can't go to sleep without help. Every day I'm trying to clean up the mess inside, but there will always be some dust.
eight summers ago
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eight summers ago
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a visual love letter to the melancholic but ephemeral moment we call blue hour.
light has faded and objects become hard to distinguish from the background or each other. they seem more like silhouettes in the steely light with shadows so soft and gloomy. our color-vision gives way to shades of tungsten as there is no longer enough light for our eyes to differ between detailed color schemes. the city turns cold and the blue scenery adds a dark, dramatic quality to its character.
a fragile few minutes, that I deeply romanticize, as the light gently turns from warm orange to the cooler, blue hues of blue hour — before the night sets in and takes over.
Editions based on my blue hour work.
///
An exploration of my own self looking for answers to why I am drawn to creating at night.
I watched him die for 8 years. Every night I was frightened, hiding under my blanket covering my ears, wishing this was all just a bad dream I will soon wake up from.
At night, that's when life would remind us of his illness, and the things we learned how to hide during the day would show. We were falling, everyone at their own pace, hitting a new rock bottom every night. I still remember how it feels to hug you.
At night, I'm closest to my feelings and most honest with myself. It might also be a reminder that the night can in fact be beautiful and has more to offer than tears and pain.
To this day I can't go to sleep without help. Every day I'm trying to clean up the mess inside, but there will always be some dust.
- Sales
- Transfers