There are moments along Iceland’s coast when landscape collapses into margin.

Where snow, sea mist, and wind flatten orientation into tonal field, and presence must be actively discerned rather than assured. Within these conditions, the Arctic fox appears not as a subject of wildlife description, but as a contingent figure at the edge of perception.

These photographs are made in environments shaped by littoral forces, where land, sea, and atmosphere continuously redistribute what can be seen. In these high-key environments, the fox registers first as a mark within the field, briefly resolving into form before blending back into it. Its visibility is conditional—governed by movement, posture, weather, and the viewer’s sustained attention.

This work is not concerned with disappearance as metaphor, but with the thresholds through which presence becomes perceptible. The fox is neither emblem nor absence; it navigates these coastal margins with precision, negotiating the same conditions that render it difficult to see.

Positioned between documentation and abstraction, the images ask what it means to look where visibility itself is unstable. They propose a form of attention attuned not to loss, but to the fragile conditions through which existence briefly takes form.