When the Blackbird Flew Away

Requiem for the Forest

In the quiet aftermath of destruction, absence lingers. When the Blackbird Flew Away is a photographic requiem for the forest, a meditation on what remains when trees are felled and silence takes their place. Capturing the immediate aftermath of logging, I document tree stumps from above. Remnants of lives cut short, echoes of a once-thriving landscape.

While Bernd and Hilla Becher meticulously archived industrial structures, symbols of human ingenuity, this work bears witness to the opposite: a systematic dismantling of nature.

Each stump stands as a monument to absence, marked by the scars of its removal. The repetition of these forms, instead of celebrating construction, reveals the scale of destruction. These typologies, rather than documenting industry, expose loss.

These trees, some standing for a hundred years, held the memory of seasons, storms, and histories now erased in minutes. The blackbird’s flight signals an irreversible departure—one that asks us to listen to what is missing, to witness the spaces left behind.