Wandering through Manhattan, I observe a world where nature is increasingly viewed and appreciated from a distance—framed behind windows, mediated through screens, confined to parks and planters, or simulated altogether. What was once a source of direct, multi-sensory experience has, for many, become a curated aesthetic or commodity, packaged for consumption rather than lived and engaged with. Within this observation, there is not just a physical separation from nature but a psychological and cultural one—an extinction of experience unfolding quietly around us.

The scenic model of nature—pristine, controlled, and picturesque—dominates our visual media, but exists largely apart from daily city life. Rhythms of growth and decay, the untamed and unpredictable aspects of the natural world, and even species native to our area are largely absent from urban indoor existence. In their place, we encounter nature as an object of control, an abstraction, or a fleeting spectacle glimpsed between obligations.

And yet we are never truly separated from the natural world. Embedded in the structures we build, the air we breathe, and the biological rhythms that guide our lives—nature is present at all times. In many ways, the concept of our disconnection is an illusion shaped by cultural norms and narratives rather than an inherent reality.

Through these images, I seek to capture the quiet tension between presence and absence, inviting a reconsideration of what it means to be connected with the natural world.