In 2022, a severe weather event left my home badly damaged when a large, healthy tree crashed into it during two days of relentless rain and 60-mph winds. The studio took the hardest hit—its roof collapsed and water rushed in. Around 5 a.m., after shutting off the electricity at the breaker box, I waded through ankle-deep water, trying to secure what I could. All I could do was wait for daylight to assess the damage, call the insurance company, and begin the painful work of salvaging what remained.

The ceiling had gaping holes where the sky now stared back, and the hammering rain only deepened the destruction. The fallen tree still rested heavily on the roof.

That year tested every part of me. It took nearly twelve months to resolve the insurance claim and just about as long to rebuild my home and studio. I count myself fortunate—no one was injured, and none of my gear needed replacing.

Curtsy was created in that in-between season, while the studio was still being rebuilt. The construction chaos felt endless, and I longed to use my tools again. When my beau gifted me a bouquet of tulips, I was inspired to photograph them as a quiet act of reclaiming the space.

The studio walls were in the middle of being replastered, and a sheet of plastic divided the room. When the carpenters left for the day, I pulled a small desk—normally used for digitizing—into the narrow opening. Late-afternoon light poured through the windows, so I used one freshly plastered wall as my backdrop. In the cramped, makeshift space, I relied on slow exposures, selective focus, and deep bokeh to express how I felt: unsettled, hopeful, resilient.

Choosing a camera was easy. I reached for my Hasselblad 501CM paired with the CFi 180/4 lens—an elegant combination that allowed me to convey strength, patience, and beauty within those delicate blooms.

I also made a few frames with my Fujifilm X100V, partly to capture color reference should I decide to hand-color the black-and-white negative later, and partly because the natural hues were so captivating, I wasn’t sure which direction I’d take. That flexibility felt reassuring. In fact, it wasn’t until 2025 that I processed the digital version and revisited a quick behind-the-scenes snapshot, which appears below.

Before shooting, I had a clear concept in mind—previsualization—and used the camera’s aperture preview to refine my composition and direct the focus just where I wanted it. I worked with the shallowest depth of field possible, placing a thin line of focus intentionally among the petals.

My exposures ran around two minutes. Thankfully, Fujifilm Acros II requires no reciprocity adjustment, though I still gave each exposure an extra 30 seconds for peace of mind.

I shot two rolls since my Patterson tanks process pairs of 120 film. I also made a few images with the CFi 100/3.5, but the 180 delivered precisely the mood I was seeking.

This frame—Curtsy—is the one that resonates most deeply. I’ve always felt a kinship with tulips; like them, I bend, but I do not break.