Our understanding of the land - and our selves within it - is palimpsest: written, erased, written again, yet new legibilities arise, contest, conform, and confirm.

Rooted in the American Southwest - its geology, layered histories, and Indigenous inscriptions - I explore how these layers accumulate. Working across photography, video, installation, appropriation, poetics, and custom code, I ask what it means to enter into relationship with a place rather than simply occupy it. Is landscape ever just a setting, or does sustained attention turn it into a condition for perception itself - a mirror? Petroglyphs, astronomical calendars, digital traces, algorithmic systems - are these different expressions of the same desire to record presence across time, or does each act of marking also erase what came before it?

Much of this work begins in sustained attention - years spent on backroads, camera in hand, returning to the same landscapes long enough for them to begin looking back. Some accumulate differently: an archive revisited, a digital environment inhabited over time, movement itself as inscription. All told, they are reminder that memory, too, is palimpsest: personal experience, official history, the land itself - written, erased, written again.