Tilts only (his shirts) explores a sense of longing. The closeness of the lens creates optical distortions that render the camera’s object at once familiar and strange, intimate and distant. The tangibility of the shirts is fleeting. In their place there is an abstract, almost infinite colour field of lines and stripes that echo Newman’s onement, I (zip). The camera’s tilting movements are repetitive and relentless, looking its object over, again and again from top to bottom, in a mechanical yet sexualized gaze.