The concept of the rhizome, as explained by Deleuze and Guattari, really resonates with me. It’s this idea of growth and connection that isn’t linear or hierarchical, but more like an expansive web. Instead of having a single origin or structure, it spreads out in all directions, creating a fluid, interconnected network. It challenges the way I usually think about things—where there’s always a clear beginning and end—and encourages me to see things as complex, layered, and constantly shifting.

When I think about photography in this context, especially photographing people who are close to me, I realize it’s not just about capturing a moment in time. The photos of these people aren’t just isolated images; they’re part of a bigger, ever-evolving network of relationships and shared histories. Each person I photograph is like a node in a much larger web, and the way I photograph them isn’t about a single story. Instead, it reflects how all these connections intertwine—how the people I love and care about are all linked together in this kind of invisible, yet tangible, web.

So when I take a photo of someone close to me, I’m not just documenting them in the way you might think of a traditional portrait. I’m also capturing the relationships that connect us, the emotions, the memories, and the shared experiences that make us who we are to each other. It’s as if the photo becomes a piece of something bigger—a rhizomatic network that extends far beyond the frame. It’s a way of recognizing that we’re not isolated, but part of a much larger, ever-changing story.

When I think about photography in this context, especially photographing people who are close to me, I realize it’s not just about capturing a moment in time. The photos of these people aren’t just isolated images; they’re part of a bigger, ever-evolving network of relationships and shared histories. Each person I photograph is like a node in a much larger web, and the way I photograph them isn’t about a single story