2006. I see St. Petersburg, a place of my birth (then Leningrad) for the first time in 14 years. Strangely European, yet defiantly Russian, this place remains an endemic collision of beauty, poetry, and music with darkness, agony, and intoxication. It has always been overwhelmed with hopes and dreams, thus any disillusionment here is only natural. Beneath its seemingly polished beauty there are free floating and interacting pieces of various pasts and present. It is this peculiar confusion of tenses that this place presents, makes images loose any significance of adhering to a certain linear narrative or chronology, instead seeking to create their own set of relations free of sequential display of facts. Second Thoughts, as afterthoughts and images of thoughts expressed in ...

Whether anyone is watching or not, migration is a lingering leap into the void. Collision of social with personal, empathy with intellection, this experience is not misunderstood; it is unrecognized, as languages we’ve vaguely heard at some point in our lives to which we aren’t able to attach a body, as weather and distances expressed in unaccustomed units of measure that can be assimilated; yet only half-rhymed.  An entire past comes to dwell in a new place with flashes of daydreams that illuminate the synthesis of immemorial and recollected, that goes beyond describing community of immigrants, or enumerating its picturesque or depressing features and analyzing for which reasons community or people that moved there from one place are comfortable. It is, instead, a visual portrait of a community of memory and image.

“No Such Records” is an exploration of the silent and haunting experience of walking after dark on the streets of Los Angeles and Tijuana. Collision of social and typical with personal and psychological, this series of images savors the strange solitude of the enigmatic region between California and Mexico; the streets, bars, night shelter hotels, and amorphous night figures.