At the beginning of 2024, I embarked on a 365 project. Originally, the concept was simple yet ambitious: One Camera, One Lens, One Year – specifically using a Sony A7rIII that I had converted to Infrared 720nm, paired with a fixed focal length 55mm lens. For the first few months of 2024, I committed to posting an infrared image every day. However, I soon discovered that the limitations I had imposed on myself were far more challenging than I had initially anticipated. After some time, I cautiously adjusted the parameters to make it more manageable, but ultimately, I decided to bring the project to an end after approximately 100 days.

For the next few months, I put the idea of a structured project aside, allowing myself time to reflect and reconsider my creative direction. Throughout this period, two particular aspects of the project stood out as the most rewarding. The first was the striking black and white nature of my infrared photography. My decision to have my Sony camera converted to 720nm was intentional; this specific wavelength is especially well-suited to black and white edits, offering excellent contrast and a wide dynamic range, which enhanced the mood and depth of the images I created.

The second significant takeaway from the 365 project was the daily challenge it presented to seek out compelling subject matter for my photographs. I aimed to keep the work interesting and varied, constantly pushing myself to explore different themes and perspectives. Yet one subject kept drawing me back: my husband’s hands. Paul was diagnosed with advanced cancer in the summer of 2023. Since then, he has been undergoing intensive chemotherapy treatments every two weeks. A lasting side effect of one of the chemotherapy drugs has been peripheral neuropathy, which causes numbness, tingling, and uncomfortable sensations in his extremities. His hands—and the way they are visibly reacting and adapting to the treatment—have become a frequent subject of conversation between us.

In addition, the monoclonal antibodies administered in an effort to target the cancer have triggered severe skin reactions, affecting his face, scalp, and upper body. Understandably, Paul has been hesitant to be photographed during this difficult period. This reluctance has naturally conflicted with my wish to create lasting mementos of this time, as capturing these moments feels like part of how I am processing the devastating diagnosis. We have found a compromise, leading to the concept I’m calling ‘A Show of Hands.’

Many of the images are still being created using my infrared camera, but not exclusively, as for me the project focuses primarily on the subject rather than the camera itself. I am therefore using whichever camera I have at hand at the time of shooting. However, I have made a firm decision that all images will be edited and presented in black and white to maintain a consistent and impactful aesthetic throughout the collection.

This will be an open-ended, ongoing study—one that reflects not only the physical trials of illness, but also the emotional landscape we navigate together. It is a project born from both love and resilience, a visual diary of our strength and vulnerability as a couple.