The Circuit

The Circuit transforms an everyday laundromat into a place that feels both familiar and strangely unsettling. A quiet, mundane space becomes a stage for something beyond what we see—a sense that reality might bend, shift, or loop back on itself. At the center is an analog television, appearing outside of its expected place and time. It holds a quiet tension that draws attention and curiosity.

What draws me to the television is how it works as a metaphor. A TV is a channel changer: with one click, the scene flips, and the mind quickly adapts to a new reality. In this series, that shift becomes a psychological journey. A life rooted in repetition suddenly opens into another space—strange, uncertain, and unresolved. It mirrors the way we move between the mundane and the surreal, often without realizing how thin the line is between the two.

I approach photography like cinematic storytelling. In film, movement carries the story; in still images, it’s the viewer’s imagination that fills the spaces in between. Each photograph is a fragment, like a film still from a movie that doesn’t exist. Together they create an arc that asks the audience to imagine the gestures and silences that extend beyond the frame.

The Circuit lingers in the in-between moments, where the ordinary becomes uncanny and the smallest gesture could change everything. Photography, for me, is a way of slowing down and finding those moments of strangeness in familiar places. A laundromat, a hallway, or an old television can hold mystery, possibility, and tension—reminding us that even the most mundane settings can feel cinematic, and that reality can shift with just one touch.