Paper Flowers is a reflection on love, memory, and the quiet gestures that build a life together. Each print captures flowers given to my wife—small tokens of affection that, like any relationship, shift and transform over time. Through the process of lumen printing, I preserve these fleeting moments, allowing them to evolve into something new.
The prints are created using a UV lightbox that my father-in-law and I built together, a tool that adds another layer of connection to this work. Rather than exposing the prints to the unpredictability of the sun, this controlled process allows for a deep engagement with light and time, revealing colors and textures that are both expected and surprising. Just as relationships require care, patience, and attention, so too does this process—waiting for the right balance of exposure, watching the chemistry react, embracing the subtle shifts that make each print unique.
The titles of these pieces are drawn from late 90s and early 2000s emo songs, a nod to the soundtrack of my youth and the emotions embedded in those lyrics. Emo music, with its raw vulnerability and confessional lyrics, gave many men of my generation permission to express feelings in ways that mainstream masculinity often discouraged. The music painted love as something to ache for, to suffer through—romance as both salvation and destruction. These narratives shaped how many of us understood relationships, love, and even ourselves.
But over time, those perceptions evolve. While the intensity of those lyrics remains, their meaning shifts in the context of lived experience. In contrast to the longing and heartache that often defined the music, my work reclaims that emotion for something softer, more enduring—a relationship built not on nostalgia or loss, but on presence and growth.
Ultimately, these prints are about the beauty of everyday love—the rituals, the gifts, the shared spaces. The flowers will fade, but their imprint remains, much like the moments that shape a relationship. Through this work, I seek to honor not just the flowers, but the act of giving them, the hands that arrange them, and the life they become a part of.