Absent Presence
Yana Northen • 11 December 2025
When the phone becomes the closest thing we hold.
Sometimes it seems to me that the mobile phone is more than just a means of communication - it has become something much more important for all of us.
Today at the gym, I once again saw a familiar “scene” in which almost every person was holding a phone in their hands, directing all their attention onto a small screen, frozen in place.
The same happens on the street and in cafés.
Recently, I was walking with a young man, and a girl literally bumped into us — she was walking with her eyes buried in her phone. Familiar story?
This happens constantly.
People part with all kinds of things, separate from each other, but with their phone — never.
The strongest moment happened to me once in the city, when I was crossing the street. A car was turning left, and a phone fell from its roof right at my feet. I picked it up and, bringing it home, put it on charge. After some time, the phone rang. It was the man who had lost it. We arranged to meet so that I could return his device, and after thanking me, he used a phrase that still stays in my mind:
“My whole life is in this phone.”
I was stunned. In that phrase was the most accurate definition of our time.
We have created gadgets, and now the gadgets have consumed us. The phone has become both - organ and external memory, without which so many people can no longer function themselves.
I keep thinking about how we are so close — and at the same time, so far from each other.
The phone has become a dominant participant in our everyday life.
This thought led me to the project “Absent Presence.”
This series of photographs is my observation and my attempt to capture and show how physical closeness no longer means emotional closeness.
How we are present next to each other — and at the same time absent.
Sometimes it is enough to simply look away from the screen to see that what is real is right beside you..
It is today’s reality, this is becoming more and more difficult.
“Absent Presence” is my way of speaking honestly about this.
It is my view of what has already become our norm.
A moment from my London exhibition — mist, light, and water reflecting the stillness of time and the quiet clarity of passing life.
A grandmother’s gentle reflection on how quickly time passes and how precious each moment truly is.
A reflection on waiting and uncertainty, where fragile moments and strange images reveal the inner echoes of the soul through photography.
A reflection on freedom and choice within life’s limits, inspired by Camus’ absurd: finding meaning through our actions despite mortality.
Capturing the invisible: wind, time, and fleeting moments. A reflection on memory, life, and eternity in a breath.
Thoughts on time, life’s fleeting moments, and discovering your inner compass amidst the rush of days.
Honouring my uncle’s memory through art, music, and the wisdom he shared about living life to the fullest.
Exploring how flowers, emotions, and images intersect — one layer of reality over another.
Planting poppies in my garden was my unconscious way of mourning my husband—only recently did I understand their deep, symbolic meaning.
A brief reflection on change, loss, and quiet presence. How one bare tree in a blooming garden became a reminder that everything passes, everything moves — and sometimes, the most important thing we can do is simply be.