When I was practicing as an architect, I was always secretly amused by the ¡®standards¡¯ of architectural photography. We stage a building to look pristine, even though we all know it didn¡¯t look like that an hour before the shoot and never will again. You make a pilgrimage to see a ¡®masterpiece¡¯ based on its most famous photo, only to find it covered in moss, laundry, or patinas—but to me, that is compelling. A building¡¯s ¡®original state¡¯ is just an infinitesimal, ephemeral point in time, if it even exists. The real life of a building is much more glutinous, and I¡¯m drawn to everything that escapes the frame: construction, maintenance, aging, afterlives. Film is the small crack through which I can enter that space.