Weathered

Walking through Rome, you learn quickly that the most extraordinary things are rarely the ones announcing themselves. This staircase I came across on foot — what appeared to be the back entrance to a private estate — was not asking to be looked at. Three marble steps lead to a large patiniad iron gate, and beyond it, more stairs continue upward past walls of old plaster that has begun to peel back, revealing the layers of material and time beneath. Dried leaves had gathered and cascaded around the steps, unhurried, as though they belonged there. I stood there bearing witness because it felt like accidentally seeing something true about a place; so I took a deep breath, settled my Hasselblad and found the frame — one snap later I continued on my way.

Weathered sits with the idea that deterioration and improvement are not opposites. What aging takes away in precision it returns in depth — in the plaster that peels to reveal what it was made of, in the gate that has darkened over decades into something richer than its original finish, in the leaves that have settled into the composition as naturally as if they were placed. The archival giclée print is held in a vintage wood frame with gold accents, aged itself, holding an image that asks us to reconsider what we mean when we call something ruined.

This piece is part of Bright Ruin (2025), my series of over 45 unique works shot entirely on analog film over the course of 10 days in Rome, and first exhibited at Gallery ATARAH in September 2025.