For the past decade, I have been making daguerreotypes of a memorial site known as The Crosses of Lafayette in Lafayette, California. This memorial began in November 2006 as a protest against the escalating Iraq War, marking each American soldier killed with a symbolic cross. At the top of the hill, a sign displays the rising death toll—now over 5,000.
As both an American and an immigrant, I hold my freedom sacred. But that freedom comes at a cost—paid with the lives of the men and women who serve. It’s easy to overlook the profound sacrifices made by these individuals and their families.
When I photograph this site, I become a witness to history. Using the 19th-century process of daguerreotype, I aim to preserve the emotional and physical landscape of this moment in time. The aesthetic of the medium recalls early war photography, like Matthew Brady’s images of Civil War battlefields. But in Lafayette, there are no bodies—only symbols of remembrance: crosses, Stars of David, and other religious icons.
What moves me most are the personal touches on these memorials: inscriptions that read “In memory of,” “We will not forget,” or “CPL Sean Langevin, son.” Some crosses still hold photographs of the fallen, now faded from sun and rain. And yet, families continue to return, tending to these tributes, keeping memory alive.
I am honored to witness this quiet, powerful act of remembrance—and to reflect it back through the mirror-like surface of the daguerreotype.
