The Border Is a Wrinkle, 2025 Solo photography exhibition Dimensions not supplied
BUNA+- Gallery / Collective
- Zhar Art
Wrinkles are gravitational jokes played by time. They say, “You think life is smooth? Here, have a fold.” In these portraits of old people, each face is a map of battles fought and naps taken. I don’t want to romanticize old age. It’s heavy, it’s crooked, it smells like medicine sometimes. But it’s also full of tenderness, wisdom, and a kind of stubborn beauty that refuses to die. I’m not a photographer at all. I’m a savage, mostly. I shoot with whatever is in my pocket—sometimes an analogue camera that stutters like a bad memory, sometimes a cheap digital one. I’m not chasing perfection, not even good quality though. Because sometimes, the raw mess is the only honest thing left. The wrinkle itself is a border—an uneven line folding the skin like a map. It’s where time pulls and pushes, marking the invisible borders between past and present, strength and fragility, memory and forgetting.