Jordan Tiberio. Sylvia Elizabeth, New York City. August 2014.
Aug 17, 2014 / 105 notes

Jordan TiberioSylvia Elizabeth, New York City. August 2014.

Aug 16, 2014 / 3 notes

dynuh said: is it possible to make one of those double pictures using a fuji instax?

Not that I know of!

Aug 16, 2014 / 156 notes

Jordan Tiberio. Sylvia Elizabeth, New York City. August 2014.

Jordan Tiberio. Lacuna, 2013-2014.
See and read more here.
Aug 11, 2014 / 89 notes
Self, 21.
Aug 11, 2014 / 48 notes

Self, 21.

Aug 11, 2014 / 8 notes

dynuh said: What is the slit scan process?? So inlove with your work hoping I can learn from you x

Thank you so much! I print out a photograph of mine or use an instant print (polaroid), and then drag and twist and turn it along a flatbed scanner while it’s scanning to create these pieces. It’s really fun and experimental so you’ll get something new each time.

Aug 6, 2014 / 93 notes

Jordan Tiberio. Polaroids of Justine, August 2014.

Jordan Tiberio. Justine, August 2014.
Aug 3, 2014 / 53 notes

Jordan Tiberio. Justine, August 2014.

Jordan Tiberio. Home, August 2014.
Aug 3, 2014 / 46 notes

Jordan Tiberio. Home, August 2014.

Aug 3, 2014 / 23 notes


October, 2013,  I used to fall asleep to the melancholy lullabies of your memory each night.  Tossing and turning I’d hope the thoughts of you would seep out of my ears if I moved with enough force, but my attempts always failed.  You see, when you were mine, and as your fingers would travel along the landscape of my limbs, seeds were planted within my bones.  Your love would arrive in the form of a storm, and I was always without my umbrella.  I remember feeling the rosebuds cracking through my marrow; my skin flushing the crimson color of their newborn petals.  Their roots rejoiced to the nurturing of your lips as they danced across my flesh.  But only a year after you planted your garden, a drought abruptly roared over my plains.  Those once luscious flower beds on my bones have now been long wilted, for my heart is void of the kind of love it desires the most.  Your voice was an octave equal to the song of the birds in the early morning, waking up the Earth.  And it was not until I was no longer awoken by it, and I forgot its sweet melody, that I realized heartbreak does indeed fade away.  At some point my memories of you started to become diluted, some of them possibly existing as figments of my own imagination, never having existed in the first place.  And even if I wish not to admit it, I’d fantasize about your next relationship.  What if you loved them more?  What if you forgot about me?  It is hard for one to imagine a love with anyone but their ex-lover, so we scoff at how they seem so unaffected by the sadness they’ve inflicted on our hearts.  But experiencing these overwhelming daydreams only lead me to the same realization that forgetting the sound of your voice did.  One day I will love someone new just as you will.  And maybe his hands will plant a new flower all of his own in the bones you have left behind.  Artifacts of you will still resurface when the future farmers of your old land harrow the soil, and when they do I will dust them off and position them proudly on my mantle.  Because it is okay to hold onto distant times.  I will never apologize for the days I spend dreaming, or the evenings I bathe in nostalgia.  I refuse to let go of the memory of how your eyes were the colors of emeralds I wish I could wear around my neck.  And I may never cease reliving the ecstasy that was once so plentiful because I can’t just let you fade away.  I loved you first.  These are my memories— only I can control their fate— and they are what will make me feel alive.  No matter where you are, you will always be with me, and although we may no longer be in love, I still love you.  But while I’m here I must not deprive myself of joy, for we’ll all become just impressions in the bed sheets one day.