Everyone I photographed carried something across a border.

I asked for the object, not the story. We agreed on anonymity before anything was made. Each thing sits in darkness, lit only enough to be recognised by the person who owns it.

I asked nine women to show me the part of the body they think about most and like least.

They marked it. I photographed only that. No faces, no names, nothing that would let you place them.

What came back was not a list of flaws. It was a record of attention. Where the eye keeps returning. What a mirror does to a morning.

Prints hang from paper folded and unfolded until it stopped resisting. Cutouts sit where a body would. What each person said about her own body runs on ribbon, in her own words, at the height of a mouth.

This series begins with food every Cantonese household knows. Stir-fried tomato and egg. Bitter melon. Star fruit. I photograph and make the prints, then use a scanner to manipulate the images by hand, print them again.

Planes tilt. Shadows fall where no light was. The scan glitches and stretches a surface past where it should end. Solid things thin out into flat colour, and flat colour swells back into weight. The colour stays loud. Ordinary things turn slightly wrong.

The distortion is a metaphor for ten years of studying abroad. Melbourne, Toronto. These places changed my habits, my accent, my taste. The dishes did not move. They stay in me, deep and constant, closer than language. Each image is a small return. To a meal. To hands I did not photograph. To love that continues at a distance.

This is what holds me while everything else keeps shifting.

The gallery had a body. Skirting, a corner, a wall patched and painted over more than once.

I let my own body and the room share a frame. Where the two exposures meet neither one is quite a surface. The work was made for that room, printed on film and put back onto the windows it came from.

The Recurring visualises seven people's dreams and meaningful symbols that recur again and again in their lives. I gathered responses from social media and asked participants to bring images that reveal their dream states or scenes like déjà vu.

During the shoot, I used projectors to project their images onto their actual bodies, creating abstract portraitures that combine their physical presence with familiar imagery. These dreams encompass childhood memories, books they read, everyday architecture, flying and chatting with others, escaping, those who have passed away, and images about other selves. The work continues my exploration of people's subconscious states and surrealism.

With lots of experiments during the shoot, I explored camera-less processes like using a scanner to manipulate the prints to get distorted, otherworldly imagery.

I photographed all images using analogue film. Ilford XP2 pushed one stop for the black and white images, to achieve more obvious grain. Harman Red for the orange monochrome, and Portra 800 for colour, as the higher ISO film enabled flexibility when shooting with projection in low lighting conditions.

All images are printed on Canson Rag Photographique and placed in a scattered arrangement to emphasise the non-linear, non-logical aspects of dreams. The large print contrasts with the tiny prints, and the hand serves as a clear motif that feels like grabbing and recalling these recurring, blurry memories. An accompanying booklet features quotes and words from my participants.