It began with a blow. A rattling of the brain. I had to retreat from screens, appointments, deadlines, life as I knew it. I was left in a void and I started to walk, one foot in front of the other, everyday, through the autumn, into the winter. A ritual had begun, a ritual of healing. I walked into the sensuous world, connecting and collecting oddities of nature. 

Sixteen times a minute. That is how often we breathe. In Danish, the word is åndedræt. It joins ǫnd - spirit, wind, lifeforce - with dræt, the act of drawing. And so we draw the spirit in, and we blow the air out. My walks became a meditation on exactly that, and this is where the project gets its title. Pneuma is the ancient word for breath, for wind, for spirit. 

In Pneuma, familiar objects - withered leaves, seed pods, flowers in transformation - are isolated against a void of pure black. Stripped of scale and context, these specimens cease to be mere samples; they appear as suspended, sculptural entities, reminiscent of deep-sea life or alien fantasies. The effect is achieved by digitally weaving dozens of exposures into a single composite. The density of detail imbues the motifs with a vibrating presence, suggesting a form of life we have yet to understand. Pneuma is a cyclical gathering of motifs that connects me to the sensuous world, serving as a reminder that life is a shared breath - something existing between us as much as within us.