Like much of my work, Requiem evolved organically through the creative process. There was a stillness to the shoot—calm, yet not necessarily peaceful. It felt statuesque, almost frozen in time. The intellectual spark for the concept came when one of the models opened a book being used as a prop and landed on a page titled Permanence and Causality. Those words lingered with me and became the foundation for the piece.

The final piece came together with the discovery of a hauntingly beautiful acapella chant called Requiem. It was the missing puzzle piece, evoking a timeless, almost spiritual atmosphere. Conceptually, Requiem became a meditation on loss and the way time feels suspended in the aftermath of death. It’s not a literal narrative, but it imagines two figures frozen in a moment of reflection, grappling with the weight of absence.

Wind became a crucial element, both in the footage and conceptually. To me, wind carries an inherent paradox: it’s motion you can feel and hear, yet it sweeps over stillness, amplifying the tension between movement and stasis. This interplay—of being frozen while everything around you is in motion—embodies the essence of Requiem.

The piece doesn’t offer a direct message but invites the viewer to sit with its quiet intensity, to feel the irony of stillness and motion, and to reflect on the ways we experience time, life, and loss.