“The Shape of Echoes” is a black-and-white photography exhibition that gathers images from cemeteries across Central Illinois. Through stark monochrome, dramatic light, and intimate framing, the work transforms weathered stone, bronze, and iron into quiet witnesses. Angels, mourning figures, guardian dogs, empty chairs, ornate mausoleums, toppled monuments, and fragmented inscriptions become vessels that hold the lingering presence of those who have passed. The exhibition meditates on how memory takes physical form, how absence is given shape and how these cemetery structures continue to reverberate long after the voices they commemorate have fallen silent. I photograph cemeteries because they are the last places where we insist on leaving a permanent shape behind. Every statue, every column, every carved name or broken wing is a literal echo: a form that outlives the person it was meant to remember. I am drawn to the way stone and metal continue to speak when flesh cannot, how an angel’s raised hand still reaches toward heaven, how a loyal dog still guards its master’s rest, how a toppled monument still declares a name even as moss reclaims it. These are not somber documents of death. They are records of our stubborn human impulse to make memory visible and durable. I choose black-and-white because color can soften the edge of time; monochrome sharpens the geometry of loss and the beauty of endurance. Light and shadow become my collaborators, revealing cracks, inscriptions, and gestures that feel almost conversational. The empty chair, the veiled mourner, the child’s broken brick marker these are not abstractions. They are the precise shapes our grief and love once took, now standing alone in the grass, still echoing. By framing these structures against bare trees, overcast skies, or tangled vines, I show how nature and time slowly edit our monuments, yet never fully erase them. The photographs ask a single, quiet question: What remains when the story ends? The answer is shape, solid, stubborn, and strangely alive. These echoes do not speak of endings; they speak of continuation. They remind us that we, too, will one day leave behind forms that strangers will pause before, wondering who we were and why we mattered.