Ribe

2024
archival print/dibond/white frame
44.8-59 inches, (edition 5 + 2 a.p.)

In the heart of Ribe, where the streets fold around centuries of human presence, the cathedral rises as a fusion of time. No single part speaks the same century; its surface is composed of successive layers of faith, repair, decay, and imagination. Brick overtakes tuff stone, Romanesque arches bear Gothic windows, and between those layers light flows as a silent witness to change. Inside, time cannot be measured but only felt. The walls breathe the dampness of medieval winters, the floor carries the traces of centuries of praying feet. What was once sacred is now memory, what was once new is now patina. Yet everything remains, compressed into a single breath. Chronolith, stone of time, names this image rightly. The cathedral is a geological formation of human history; every reconstruction, every restoration, every scar a deposition in the strata of memory. Here architecture becomes sediment, and time becomes building material.