A photograph, we are often told, arrests a moment in time. It is a certificate of presence. But what happens when thousands of these moments, all of the same subject, are gathered? What do they testify to then?

In 2018 I engaged in a long and patient conversation with the view from my window. For a year, I made thousands of photographs from a single vantage point. An act of devotion, perhaps. Or an act of questioning. What is it that one sees when one looks at the same thing, day after day? The light changes, yes. The sky shifts from blue to grey to the color of a fading bruise. But the seer also changes.

The camera, a mechanical eye, recorded these subtle shifts. But the project did not end there. A k-means clustering algorithm, another kind of mechanical mind, was employed to sort these moments not by the clock or the calendar, but by color. The thousands of recorded skies were distilled into their dominant hues and then arranged.

The result is this new image. A landscape not of a place, but of time itself. A year compressed into a single spectrum. Each sliver of color is a ghost of a specific morning, a particular afternoon. It is a sea of memory. It does not show you what it was like on a Tuesday in May at noon. Instead, it offers the accumulated sensation of a year of looking.

We think of time as a line. A sequence of events. But perhaps memory is different. Here, time has been taken apart and reassembled according to a different logic—the logic of light and color. The result is an image that resists a single narrative. It forces us to ask: what is the relationship between what we see and what we remember? Is memory a collection of frozen moments, or is it a fluid, layered thing, much like this sea of color?

This is not just a document of a year. It is a map of perception. It reminds us that to look is an act of choice, and how we choose to arrange what we have seen can create new ways of understanding, new ways of feeling. The window remains the same, but the way of seeing it has been profoundly altered.

What do you see when you look at the same view every day? And how might you rearrange those moments to find a different truth?