As we approach the 160th anniversary of the end of the Civil War, I have chosen to document Appomattox Court House—a place where history was made and where the nation took its first steps toward reconciliation. I spent a month at Appomattox photographing the park and the landscapes in and around it. My goal was to capture the enduring significance of Appomattox and its timeless essence through the lens of analog photography.

Appomattox is more than just a location; it is a symbol of a nation divided and then, in an instant, redefined. On April 9, 1865, General Robert E. Lee’s surrender to General Ulysses S. Grant marked the end of the conflict, but the reverberations of that moment continue to shape the United States today. The courthouse, the fields, the old homes—they all carry the weight of this history, speaking quietly of the struggles, sacrifices, and the long path toward healing that followed. It also is a symbol of promises unfulfilled as those who benefitted the most from the war were yet to spend another hundred years in search of equality.

In choosing to work with analog processes and large-format film techniques—I aim to connect more deeply with the historical atmosphere of this place. The village itself stands frozen in time, looking much like it did 160 years ago. My photographic approach has sought to mirror that reality with modern images informed stylistically by the pioneers of photography that followed the armies in the war. 

Analog photography, with its tactile, slower, and more deliberate process, parallels the gravity and complexity of the history I am documenting. Each exposure is a reflection of the time and care taken to preserve the past, and the resulting images embody a sense of permanence, a quiet meditation on the passage of time.

The use of traditional processes also underscores the theme of memory and preservation. Just as the photographs themselves are physical records, the history of Appomattox is a tangible, ever-evolving narrative, one that we must continue to reckon with and understand. The analog medium forces me to slow down and engage more deeply with the landscape, the architecture, and the spaces where history unfolded. There is a certain intimacy in capturing these moments without the immediacy of digital technology, allowing me to reflect on what has been lost, what remains, and what must be remembered.

These images are meant to provoke contemplation - in still images they capture the environment of stillness that pervades the village. They also hope to preserve both a historical site and a historical memory, of how we understand and interpret our past, and of how the decisions made at and after Appomattox continue to shape our present-day conversations around race, unity, and justice.