4/1/2019: new statement

Two things happened last week: my boss told me that I am not, in fact, “taking pictures of nothing,” and I submitted to an online exhibition that required I write a project statement. So here is the current iteration of what I’d say I’m working on.


This is an ongoing series of work dealing with subject matters such as memory, loss, and uncertainty.
These images depict the stage in which I take everything off the wall and reapply what actually matters, in which I pull out all the weeds. This is the stage in which I tread alongside trepidation, hanging by a thread over despondency. I often have nightmares of events out of my control, events for which I’m never physically involved - I only hear about them secondhand. This disquiet is mirrored by the inevitable variables behind the practice of film photography, specifically in the photographs taken miles away from where I live, of subjects not accessible in my day-to-day life.

I regain calm in the minutiae of these seemingly dull moments. I use my conscious artistry to abate my subconscious anxieties: setting aside an extra moment to take in how the wind moves the branches of the tree in front of the house I grew up in, the divots in the road, the sunlight through my nephew’s hair. These images are tremors along the muscle I am exercising in defiance of a perceived lack of control.


Found this while looking through the vault today. This is Kensington, Maryland, in March 2016.

Feeling all sorts of out-of-place. This time of year makes me think of myself when I was 17, makes me think of myself when I was 21 (when I took this). The clouds shift and a sunny morning becomes overcast, I think back to days like this, I get lost in the swell of dead pine leaves from the autumn past. I spent two hours clearing out dead leaves from the bradford pear in my backyard, I cut myself on a rusty nail (I have had a tetanus booster recently, I’m fine), I shoveled moldy leaves into a bag and told myself the amount of cat shit I was touching was acceptable. Yesterday I got a light sunburn from being outdoors for long enough.

I talked to someone recently about pictures and it came to me that most of my photographs are taken outside. Is this significant? While I was shoveling yard waste yesterday I likened it to my mental state, I’ve been clearing out shit, all I do is collect shit and it swirls around in my head (or my backyard) and at some point all the shit, even the useful stuff, becomes useless, and I have to shovel it all out. Cue the Rick and Morty line about Summer getting her shit together. My therapist assigned me (I know) to at least come up with three ways to dig myself out of my rut. I shoveled my backyard, I bought a new plant, I looked up free/cheap yoga classes in the city. I thoroughly avoided buying new shoes, I ate some vegetables. I’m trying. All I can do is try.

Using Format