What draws you to a specific landscape as a subject? For example, how did you end up photographing the Louisiana Bayou?

I usually work on several projects at the same time, and often one project leads me to the next. Right after I had finished a two-month road trip shooting photos in the U.S., I met a guy who has a house deep in the Bayou. He saw and loved my photographs from the trip I’d just made, and he asked me to come down to photograph his area.

There really is nowhere on Earth like the Bayou. So did you go down there right away to start taking photos?

At first I said no, because I don't like people telling me what to do. But it got me started wondering about the Bayou. I’d driven all over America for two months, but I hadn’t even heard about that area yet. When I got back to my studio in Brooklyn, I researched it and got totally interested in its distinctive natural environment. Soon after that I drove there with my gear. When I came across a spot with quiet, breathtaking scenery reflected in an extremely slow-moving stream, and I observed how it deadened the sense of time, I decided to stay there and start taking photographs.

Your photos sometimes come in rich, saturated color and other times in stark black-and-white. How do you determine which treatment will best represent a particular landscape that’s caught your eye?

I just spend a lot of time looking at it, and sometimes the color will disappear and it turns into black-and-white. Other times, only the very strong colors remain in my eyes. That’s why most of my works are either black-and-white or very enhanced colors, such as monotone.

You’ve said that you aim to “expand the meaning of jewelry design in the social sphere.” Can you tell us more about what that means?

I don’t like jewelry that’s simply worn on as a sculptural object on the neck, ear, wrist, or finger. No matter how beautiful the artist’s concept is, I still believe that the work should be connected to society in a larger sense—not just placed in a show cabinet. I believe the term “jewelry” itself is very ambiguous and neutral and that’s why it’s a challenging genre.

Which sort of camera do you use?

A large format 8x10. It requires a lot of time to set-up, and because I don't manipulate the image after shooting, I need to wait for the perfect lighting and wind. This process slows me down and makes me focus on what I really want to see.

That makes a lot of sense since time is such a dominant theme in your work. I was also wondering if there are any cinematic inspirations at play in your photos?

Yes, but there are too many...

Okay, then what about painterly inspirations?

I'm always interested in paintings because I already know what photography can and can't do. I think the Hudson River School artists have influenced me most.

Ah, people like Thomas Cole and his peers, who made those stunning landscapes in the Hudson River Valley of New York in the mid-nineteenth century.

Yes. But painting in general is always a big inspiration. I'm really moved by brushstrokes in paintings, and that’s part of the reason why I photograph with the large-format film camera—it’s able to capture more details. And of course the composition of each photo is very important to me, and I've learned a lot from paintings in that regard too.

Where has been the most difficult location to get your camera and gear to?

When I was shooting from a bridge looking down. I wanted the perfect composition so I had to lean off the bridge. Half of my body was in the air and my assistant was holding me and the tripod.

That sounds terrifying!

I won't do it again.

Where is a place you want to photograph but haven’t yet?

I'm planning on photographing so called old-growth forests all over the world. They are also known as "primary forests," and we’re losing more of them every second.

A sense of ecological consciousness seems to be an inherent part of your work. How do you envision the post-human future of Earth? Will the planet survive us?

I don't know. I only know that photographing what I'm afraid of—my visions of the future—is the only way I can remove my fear.