held in time

I have photographed my daughter with a Holga since she was small, returning to the small and ordinary moments of her childhood: playing with a hula hoop, drawing with chalk, moving through sand, simply being in the world.

These photographs hold those moments together in layers. Multiple exposures overlap and tumble across the panoramic frame, allowing one moment to meet another. Shapes and gestures repeat, shift, and reappear, like fragments of memory that surface without warning.

As she has grown, the images have become a way of holding onto time. The images move between then and now, between what happened and what remains. A gesture, a shape, a small movement can bring another moment back. The photographs are not simply a record of childhood, but a collection of moments that continue to echo. They hold the feeling of watching someone grow while knowing that each moment is already passing.

What remains is the accumulation of these small moments. The ones I remember, the ones I almost remember, and the ones that continue to return.