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In this series, I explore wild landscapes and the jarring presence of discarded objects found within them. These scenes raise a persistent, unsettling question: Why?

Why is this here? The discarded items range from domestic furniture to buckets of guts. Is there a belief that nature is a bottomless void, or is it the simple assumption that someone else will eventually clear the wreckage? By documenting these “modern relics”—utilizing both wide-angle vistas and intimate, macro details—I highlight the confusing interplay of texture, color, and contrast. I present the inherently ugly in an aesthetic light, forcing the viewer to confront the debris and ask: why?

The Psychology of Waste:

Examining the “thought process” (or lack thereof) behind deliberate dumping.

My hikes through natural landscapes often lead to jarring encounters with the discarded remains of domestic life. These photographs serve as a visual inquiry into the baffling human impulse to abandon waste in the wild—a practice that ranges from the thoughtless to the deliberately destructive.

I frequently document items that feel entirely out of place: toxic asbestos shingles, the charred rings of tires burned for entertainment, and even a crushed velvet mustard couch positioned in the center of a stream. The couch, found deep within a popular hiking trail near an affluent neighborhood, was particularly confusing; its placement required the coordinated effort of at least two people to carry it far from the road and into the water. Like many of the objects I find, it was a fleeting monument to negligence, vanishing only two days later—whether swept away by the current or removed by concerned residents remains a mystery.