Every system asks us to become anonymous.

The first two [DARYL] releases explored airports as landscapes shaped by technology—spaces where architecture and infrastructure quietly directed the movement of thousands of strangers. For the third album I designed for the band, those same spaces became something more psychological.

Photographed almost entirely in airports, the black-and-white images blur movement, invert perspective, and reduce individual figures to fleeting presences within vast public environments. A bold hot-pink form—equal parts warning label, digital artifact, and anonymous silhouette—cuts across the photographs, while the cryptic DEFENDER 01 appears without explanation, another fragment of a world built from codes and abstractions.

Rather than illustrating the music, the packaging invites listeners into a state of uncertainty. Familiar places become disorienting. Orientation gives way to abstraction. Identity dissolves into motion.

Looking back, I realize this project completed an idea that had been quietly developing across the three albums I designed for [DARYL]. I thought I was photographing airports. In retrospect, I was photographing liminal spaces—places where people move between identities, destinations, and ways of being. Long before I had language for themes like place, belonging, and attention, I was already drawn to the spaces in between.