God, Where Are You?

This body of work explores the layered relationships between sacred architecture and the people who move through it. By photographing both the exteriors and interiors of churches, I’m drawn to the way these structures hold centuries of belief, memory, and quiet ritual. Each building becomes a vessel—of light, of sound, of longing—and I’m interested in how these elements shape the emotional landscapes of those who gather within its walls.

Alongside the photographs, I include handwritten statements from individuals who have attended these churches. Their words are intimate, unfiltered reflections on how the space affects them: moments of comfort, tension, clarity, or dissonance. These statements serve as a counterpoint to the images' visual stillness, grounding the work in lived experience rather than architectural form alone. They remind us that these buildings are not static monuments but active containers of personal and communal histories.

Bringing image and handwriting together, the work asks viewers to consider how spiritual spaces function beyond religious doctrine. What does it mean for a place to shape us? How do we project our own narratives into rooms meant for collective faith? And what echoes linger long after we’ve left?

By weaving together the physicality of the church and the voices of those who inhabit it, this series becomes less about documenting a structure and more about tracing the subtle, human ways we respond to spaces built for reverence. In these intersections—between stone and sentiment, architecture and memory—I hope to open a space for reflection on how we find meaning, belonging, and vulnerability in the places we choose, or sometimes resist, to call sacred.