Raymond Meeks’s Somersault was published by MACK in 2021, at 72 pages and in an embossed hardback with tip-in. Its occasion is domestic and specific: a daughter on the threshold of adulthood and about to leave home. From that pivot Meeks considers how places hold us, push us away, and pull us back—an idea he pursues through images that feel at once provisional and settled.

The photographs move between landscape and portrait. Gardens thicken into brush; houses rest on stacked railroad ties; telephone wires and rail lines trace the networks by which people find a path through the world. Portraits of Meeks’s daughter register the inwardness and curiosity of early adulthood, while conceding that another person’s consciousness remains finally unknowable. The book’s title suggests both the turning away and the tumbling return that such a departure sets in motion.

Meeks has described working close to home as memory loses its structure, trying to make light speak from the edges of rooms that no longer exist. That sentence-like approach gives Somersault its method: not a survey of a place but an accumulation of fragile evidence, with sequence and pacing doing much of the emotional work. The result is a concise, poetic reflection on home and the ties that bind, ties that may grow stronger as they fade into half-light.

For collectors, the book’s significance lies in its place within Meeks’s ongoing investigation of family, memory, and the built environment, following ciprian honey cathedral. Its restrained scale, the tactility of the embossed hardback and tip-in, and the interplay between domestic landscape and portraiture make it a considered addition to a shelf of contemporary photobooks—less a sprawling statement than a tightly tuned object in which form and subject are matched.