Uncontained
This black-and-white photograph comes from my handmade photobook, The Life You Come Back to May Be Your Own.
Photographed in Elyria, Ohio in the fall of 2025, the image captures a blurred excavator, its massive form partially dissolving through motion. The machine appears almost uncontained — too large, too loud, too alive to be held still.
The excavator becomes less about function and more about force: weight without clarity, movement without resolution. What should feel solid instead feels momentary, even fragile. The photograph resists precision, mirroring the way memory, work, and return rarely come into focus all at once.
Within the larger body of work, this image reflects the tension of coming back to a place shaped by labor and industry — where familiarity doesn’t always bring calm, and where the past moves faster than you can fully grasp it. The machine stands in for inherited momentum: histories set in motion long before you arrive, still rumbling as you try to find your footing.
