[gallery_desc]Recently, sifting old photographs, I came across a series of the same view, taken in Shetland, a bleak stretch of rock and peat balanced between the sky and the ocean, in which light and weather are so important and immediate. The relentless wind scours the land and trees cannot take root in the peat. Yet the air is clear and the light seems to exist as a physical substance, as though you could swim off into space. I chose to print in black and white from the original color negatives in order to distance the final image from the dramatic color of the sunsets, leaving a place that alters with the light but will be recognizable for centuries. In printing I worked as much from memories as I did from the negatives, slipping backwards and forwards in time and place between the darkroom and the recorded moment. The resultant prints portray what Roni Horn refers to as “places that are, at once, both actual and acts of imagination.”[/gallery_desc]