With an old Polaroid camera I capture landscapes where the film’s fragile chemistry mirrors the fragility of memory. The subdued tones, drifting toward red, echo the fading photographs of family albums from the 1950s and 60s. Vast horizons and monumental nature dwarf the small human presence, while the film itself slowly deteriorates, as if time is etched into the image. These landscapes become metaphors for memory and mortality — how both images and human lives inevitably fade and change.