Electric Dogwoods

Every spring in Atlanta, the dogwoods bloom. Every spring, Brooks shoots them. This series is what happened when the film arrived already altered — souped in household ingredients, dried for six months, the emulsion transformed before the camera was ever raised. The familiar flower remained. The expectations did not.

What came back from those frames was electric: white blooms holding steady against fields of vibrant cyan and acid pink and purple, color and texture the chemistry built over months. The dogwood you know, seen through film that had already become something else.