The Presence of Absence

Absence is as real as presence. We can feel the presence of someone or something even when they are no longer there, and sometimes it is their absence that becomes most tangible. My photographs explore this space between what is revealed and what remains hidden, and how light, nature and our surroundings can evoke memory, emotion and a sense of what has been lost or is temporarily out of sight.

Each image tells its own story, but together they explore how we respond to fleeting moments of presence and absence—what we notice, what we imagine, and what we feel when something is there one moment and gone the next.

This online exhibition extends The Presence of Absence, which runs from the 24 September to 4 October 2026 at the Regency Town House in Brighton. The two-week interactive exhibition has brought together an upholsterer, a contemporary surrealist, a painter and a photographer, each approaching the theme from a different perspective.

The exhibition began with an empty chair: an object that carries the narrative of those who once sat in it, and the comfort, intimacy or pain that their presence represented. Its emptiness becomes meaningful because of what is missing. At the heart of the exhibition were four vintage chairs, created through a collaboration between Frances Bloomfield and Emily Beaumont, exploring memory, healing, secrets and retreat. Jo Hathaway's work on memory and reflection brought colour and light to the theme, expressing its more internal and abstract dimensions.

My photographs extend this exploration beyond the human figure and into both the natural and human-made world. Light can reveal something or conceal it; nature can appear, disappear or transform before our eyes; and familiar places can take on a different meaning when something within them is absent. Through these moments of revelation and obscurity, I explore how even a fleeting absence can affect what we notice, what we remember and how we feel.

This exploration also connects with my 2024 Brighton Photo Fringe exhibition, We Are Not a Number. That work considered absence on a human and global scale. Photographs of protesters in London represented people who had died in conflicts around the world, but the individuals themselves were absent. Their identities can easily disappear when human loss is reduced to statistics: numbers of people killed, wounded or displaced. Behind every number, however, is an individual—a father, mother, brother, sister, son or daughter—whose absence is felt by those who knew them.

Across both bodies of work, I am interested in what remains when someone or something is no longer visible: the space they leave behind, the memories they create, and the emotions that continue to make their absence present.