Hidden Pathways

This photo series was a rollercoaster, shifting between ideas as they came to me in the dark. At first, I set out to document dinners—family meals, solo bites, impromptu feasts with friends. But I quickly realized that the process of eating, from planning to plating, was already a journey in itself. So, a single dinner image remained, a quiet nod to the path a meal takes before it even reaches the table.

Then, basketball entered the mix. The final game of the ACC championship had me setting up an oversized Ramses outside my house, guiding guests to the watch party. I didn’t want to photograph the people at the event but rather the act of gathering—the unseen moments that shape an experience. But something still felt off.

And then it hit me: the real story was in the paths my friends took to reach my house. Some followed well-worn roads; others slipped through the hidden neighborhood shortcuts we’ve used for years. These "secret pathways" have a history. My neighborhood was once red-lined, home to families who have lived here for over 70 years. My house, built just a decade ago for college students, is a stark reminder of gentrification—of change, displacement, and the responsibility to respect what came before.

One evening, tripod in hand, I wandered those quiet pathways after sunset. At the neighborhood basketball court, I spotted a hole in the net—a "secret pathway" for the ball. That made me laugh. I took photos, hoping to capture the wind moving the tree branches against the backboard.

When I finally developed the roll, the theme had been there all along: paths. Dinner is a journey—grocery trips, chopping, cooking, setting the table, sitting down, alone or together. My neighborhood pathways lead to homes, to histories, to unspoken connections with neighbors I may or may not know.

In Hidden Pathways, I invite you into these quiet journeys—through meals, through streets, through the spaces in between. Because sometimes, the paths we take, seen or unseen, tell the real story.