In the Spring of 2020, Concordia University closed its doors. Almost overnight, the campus became a ghost town: no staff, no students, only local residents enjoying the open space and its peace and quiet. My kind of place. I had visited the campus only once before it closed. Just over a mile away, I went often. During 2021 alone, I visited the campus over twenty times. I kept going back, out of my own curiosity. At one point, I thought I’d record Concordia University, as a way to preserve the space. That idea subsided and I found that I was going for another reason. The campus had grown into my place, my home, part of my identity. Now, after a long absence, I decided to return to see how the place had changed and how I might have changed. What do I feel, as I walk around the campus? What am I drawn toward? Most of my photographs before were taken in color with my Canon camera and some were taken with my Pentax film camera (some color and some black & white). When I returned this spring, I took only black and white images with my Leica Q2 Monochrom.
Place matters in a way that’s often hard for me to describe in words. Why did a get so attached to the CU campus? When I go, I often feel settled, like I’ve come home. I feel a sense of discovery, something new, and I’ve been there a hundred times. And all those times find a way of layering into my memory. Not ordered by time, not arranged by location. Ordered or grouped by feeling, perhaps.
March and April, 2026
