During the first two cold months of 2026, as the polar vortex gripped the east coast, Lisa Perez hiked into a Virginia forest. Video camera-in-hand, Perez was seeking a way to meet a new landscape, slowing down through a process of deep looking and listening. Perez explains that for her,  “Walking in nature with curiosity, opening up we find ourselves connected within the natural world - and often our perception of time shifts.” This phenomenon feels both personal and universal; almost impossible to describe yet immediately relatable. Much of Perez’ recent work seeks to expand our meaning of landscape: evolving forms and techniques echo experiences in wild spaces and places, bringing the essence of immersive, tangible environments into new forms.

In tree line, Perez films from a single point, tracing a 360’ panorama of the forest canopy—multiple videos overlap, and the whirling canopy traces an infinite loop. The interplay of light, shadow and branching trees hint at time’s passage, and the layered abstraction evokes a sense of longing. Slowness asks us to look deeper, perhaps recalling individual memories of similar environments, and evoking particular feelings. Fleeting moments of wonder meet, overlapping, looping - opposing a linearity that requires a beginning and an end.

“Slowing down is not a function of speed...,” the author Báyò Akómoláfé tells us, “Slowing down is a function of deepening awareness.” Akómoláfé continues, “Slowing down is not a function of privilege, it’s a function of intimacy with a world that is agentially alive. It’s crossroads dynamic.”