Corinne Ann Bowen on Finding Reverence in Light, Shadow, and Daily Rituals

Corinne Ann Bowen (b. 1982) is a multidisciplinary artist and writer based in Rochester, New York. Working primarily in film photography, her work explores the quiet sacredness of everyday life, often through shadow, texture, and ephemeral light.

With a background in creative direction, online community, and education, Corinne’s artistic practice is rooted in ritual, rhythm, and emotional truth. Her photographs are devotional in nature, often capturing domestic and urban environments in transitional states: dawn, dusk, between silence and sound, between memory and the moment.

Her work has been exhibited in local shows and shared through her Substack essays, zines, and photography website. Corinne’s recent series documents the sacredness of ordinary life, capturing objects, gestures, and architectural forms that echo universal human stories. She views her camera not as a tool of capture, but of reverence.

Corinne lives with her family, where photos, laundry, and books accumulate like prayers.

See more of her work at corinnemakesart.com

Interview

Your photographs honor the sacredness of ordinary life. What first inspired you to see daily rituals and quiet moments as a central theme in your practice?

I’ve always had a visceral reaction to simple beauty and wanted to honor it. I feel everyday light and shadow in my heart. Photography has been the greatest gift—it allows me to capture, experience, and share what I’ve long carried within but hadn’t yet been able to translate.

You describe photography as an act of reverence rather than capture. How does that perspective shape the way you approach your subjects and environments?

I don’t plan my shoots. I carry my camera with me into every room and space, ready for whatever moves me. These moments give me joy and connect me to something greater than myself. My photographs are my thank-you to that gift.

Working with film requires patience and discipline. What drew you to analog photography, and how has it changed your relationship with image-making?

Analog photography feels alchemical. The process weaves itself into daily life, creating a rhythm—a cycle of capturing, developing, sharing, and beginning again. My existence has expanded with every roll of film and every person I’ve met through this practice. The time it takes deepens its power and value, especially in today’s world.

Many of your works are rooted in light, shadow, and transitional times of day. What draws you to these thresholds, and what do they reveal to you?

Thresholds are bridges to another world—whether to the unconscious, the sacred, or to connection with others. They are universal and breathtaking. We all have access to them, but noticing and honoring them is a choice.

How does writing—through Substack and zines—intersect with your photography? Do you see them as separate practices or as parts of the same devotional rhythm?

Writing and book-making help me process the ways photography has transformed my life. This shift has been swift and all-consuming. Putting these feelings into words and making books with my photos allows me to understand the magic of the medium more fully. It’s part of the infinite process.

What do you hope viewers carry with them after experiencing your photographs, whether in print, online, or in person?

I hope they notice sacred, simple moments in their own lives. What moves them each day? Meaning and beauty are always close at hand if we slow down to see them.

Are there any upcoming projects, series, or collaborations you are especially excited to share with us?

Each season I release a limited edition print. My Fall 2025 release is titled Threshold—a photograph I took with a Kodak Brownie in Nice, France, in Fall 2024. Every time I see it, I’m transported back to that moment when a beam of light fell across a doorway and, for the first time, I was able to capture such meaning through a camera. It marked my own threshold into the world of analog photography. Looking ahead, I’m co-leading two retreats in 2026—one in Mexico and another in Phoenix, AZ—and I continue to send a monthly photo-related piece to my Substack supporters through the mail.