Reed Gulden
Love alters perception.
Where others see distortion—something uncanny, unsettling, deformed—I see each face with total clarity and tenderness. Love gives you a way of seeing that no one else can quite access or understand.
I know they are strange. I embrace it.
Built from personal photographs stretching back to my childhood—digitally collaged, then cyanotype printed by hand in sunlight—the work mirrors its subject: memory. I remember the faces vividly, yet they sometimes jumble together with time.
Memory, like love, is a private language. These images are mine—clear to me, illegible to everyone else.






