Robert Ripley

Keane, nearing thirty, finds a box of his absent father’s negatives. He prints the images in a darkroom’s red glow. As he and his mother Diane look through distant exposures from the half-past, the prints expose a life that was always out of frame. Closure leads them back to the shoreline, where Keane reframes what remains.

Keane, nearing thirty, finds a box of his absent father’s negatives. He prints the images in a darkroom’s red glow. As he and his mother Diane look through distant exposures from the half-past, the prints expose a life that was always out of frame. Closure leads them back to the shoreline, where Keane reframes what remains.

Keane, nearing thirty, finds a box of his absent father’s negatives. He prints the images in a darkroom’s red glow. As he and his mother Diane look through distant exposures from the half-past, the prints expose a life that was always out of frame. Closure leads them back to the shoreline, where Keane reframes what remains.

Keane, nearing thirty, finds a box of his absent father’s negatives. He prints the images in a darkroom’s red glow. As he and his mother Diane look through distant exposures from the half-past, the prints expose a life that was always out of frame. Closure leads them back to the shoreline, where Keane reframes what remains.