Dalbit

Dalbit keeps one plate at a time. Each is exposed under an open sky, developed slowly, and hung alone against a wall painted the color of a moonless hour, so that nothing competes with the single point of light the print is built around. There is no overhead lighting in the room. What you see of each plate is only what the plate itself gives off.

The collection grows by one nocturne every few months, never faster, because a study made in a hurry looks made in a hurry — the grain goes hard, the glow goes flat. What follows is the room in the order the plates were hung, water giving way to stone, stone giving way to snow, each one a little further from new than the last.