I moved to Ghent from a city I never liked much. It was a tired city. It had been destroyed in the Second World War and hadn’t recovered. It was indistinct and ugly. But I liked its ugliness. In some sense, I liked it because I didn’t like it. It never tried to be like-able, and there was something attractive about its indifference and something worth photographing.

Ghent is the opposite of all that. It’s a beautiful city. It knows exactly what it is, and it’s proud. But it’s hard to get past that pride. When a place constantly assures you of what it is, finding something else in it becomes difficult. And I wanted to find something else. Otherwise, why take photographs? So, just about every day I’ve been here, I’ve walked for miles, looking for something.