April 16, 1893 1997

Linda Connor made this photograph, "April 16, 1893," sometime around when she was born, using a photographic process that feels like alchemy. The whole thing is bathed in this warm, sepia tone, giving it an antique vibe, like it was pulled from a dusty archive. There's this incredible line slashing across the image, and it's so tactile, you can almost feel the texture of the emulsion. It divides the frame, drawing your eye from the edges toward the centre and this intense solar eclipse. I love how Connor embraces the imperfections and material qualities of photography. It reminds me a bit of Vija Celmins's starscapes, these quiet, meditative explorations of the cosmos. Both artists share a fascination with the sublime, with capturing these fleeting moments of cosmic wonder. There is something poetic in the way the image embraces ambiguity, inviting us to contemplate the mysteries of time, space, and our place within them.