A landscape of rolling hills meets the shimmering San Francisco Bay, its lush grass concealing a hidden history. Fragments of brick, concrete, and warped metal emerge from the earth. Wind-blown plastic curls around grass blades while animal burrows expose colorful glass shards.

Beneath lies decades of accumulated refuse, covered by a thin layer of clay and soil. When Berkeley's public dump closed in the 1990s, the waste was capped and transformed into a park. Yet the past refuses to stay buried.

After discovering a map revealing organized waste zones—concrete debris, household trash, foundry waste—my walks through these hills changed. I began noticing what percolates to the surface and started photographing and documenting the locations of fragments: decorated porcelain fragments, rusted pipes, red brick, colored glass, bones. Each piece tells a story of consumption, disposal, and geological memory.

This ongoing photographic investigation documents these resurfacing artifacts, exploring how landscape absorbs and reveals human traces across time.

13" × 19" pigment prints