September 20

My wife slept through labor the day my son was born. When she awoke, he was born into a swimming pool I inflated under an oak tree. I had just enough time to scatter some unloaded, large format negatives and paper into the light he was born in, and shut them into a light safe box.

Each sheet of film from that box is put through a process which destroys that record of light, but creates a new one in the process. The negatives are folded in a tank of chemicals which liquefies the dye layers within. Repeated over time, this process shifts that original record of white light, into a record of accumulated time as additive color.