The US-based artist working under the moniker FloarBoar combines photography with overlaid poetry.

There is a somber Americana quality to his work that brings to mind Hopper’s “Early Sunday Morning” and “Nighthawks.” The city might sleep, but its creative observer is there to capture the emptiness and simplicity of deserted concrete paths. 

The eerie quietude of these images is pregnant with longing to know where those paths led in the past and where they will lead in the future, should they be preserved beyond the photograph.

His series “It’s Quiet at 3am” represents, on a small scale, a rather reflective personal journey dotted with feelings of loneliness, disappointment, and passiveness. On a larger one, FloarBoar‘s photography is a commentary on a society crippled by disinterest, cynicism, and abandonment.

The thoughts of an artist who views the world through a lens that excludes almost deliberately any presences from it are also the inner desires of a human that knows what is missing and what they need.

“I often wonder what I’ll think in the moment right before I die,” reads the handwritten text at the bottom of the photograph depicting a seemingly forever closed door. “I hope I remember,” the quote adds, brimming with unexpected hope.

To witness the silence of the middle of the night is to forgo being witnessed. The artist almost becomes one with the shadows to show what they can become depending on the location—the comfort or the danger.