Patterns of Prosperity

We have a huge selection of products to choose from in the United States. Even in a modest grocery store there are many different choices for any particular type of food item. Forget purple mountains majesty and amber waves of grain – it’s more about a towering wall of cereal.

In an outtake from the movie Borat, a clerk shows the ostensible foreign visitor a pretty standard dairy case in a supermarket. Borat asks about each of the products in the case: “What is this?” – “Cheese” – “And this?” — “That’s cheese.” – “And this one?” – “That’s also cheese.” He can’t believe that all of them are cheese. This repeats 52 times; then he moves on to the butter section.

My photographs capture this spectacle of store shelves using iPhone panoramas. Normally your eye only notices products in your immediate vicinity. However, a panoramic photo widens the field of vision to reveal overwhelming abundance. This expanded view highlights the visual patterns and slight variations from box to box across the many available varieties. In addition, the iPhone “pano” mode adds distortions and imperfections that amplify the surrealism of the scene.

The Poetry of Abstraction

 

I respond passionately to shapes, patterns and rhythms in nature and in man-made objects. My current work shares the joy of seeing juxtapositions and dialogues develop between light and shadow and the rhythmic sequences that they illuminate. One of my lifelong practices is to stay present in the moment, to be in the flow so that when the object of attention appears — it almost begs to be photographed. Parts of objects seem to extract the essence of the whole. I offer what I capture for discovery and contemplation.

What Was/What Is: Remembrance of My Father
When my father passed away unexpectedly, I found myself both intrigued and overwhelmed as I thumbed through dusty shoeboxes filled with old family photographs and airmail letters sent 40 years ago. The people in the photographs seemed so innocent. I wanted to grasp the images, the people, in these forgotten slides and yellowed pictures, and anchor them to the present. The photographs in this series – all of which include images of my father, or references to him – layer the past over a modern day landscape. The juxtaposition is sometimes jarring, sometimes soothing, but often tinged, I hope, with a mournfulness for the loss of time gone by. These photographs are my way of reconciling what was, with what is: to unite the past with the present: to anchor time and place.

Bulb Spirits

Eye of the storm.
When the sky gets dark, and the wind picks up and most people go inside, I take my camera and head for the sea. Solitude awakens something in me, something that I try to capture in my images. In our highly interactive, and technologically connected world, solitude must be sought out. There are those that fear being by themselves. I am not one of those people, instead I seek it out. The eye of the storm, is a quiet place, surrounded by the storm. This is what my photographs are about.

Recollection
The objects of these images are items I have collected over the years. Some are from my travels. Others are gifts given to me by people I care about. All are colorful. All have sentimental value. Most have been stored away, out of sight. Some have been in plain sight, but so much part of my daily environment, that I have not really seen them for some time.

In this project, I spend time with each object and explore it under a new light or angle. I position each object so that the space and the light surrounding it brings it back to life. Placed in dramatic lighting, the object takes on more prominence. I reflect on the shadow, its imprint on my life. I travel back to where I found it — Cuzco, Cuenca, Guadalajara…. I revisit my past, reconnecting with the person who gave it to me. I remember what I was doing at that stage of my life. As I see the object in this new light, the recollection takes me to a place of peace and self-contemplation.

The One Love Project
I have one daughter, my only child. Our bond is strong. Our time together is plentiful. And our energy is as intertwined as our limbs when we cuddle. Seeing her solitary through my camera lens grew difficult over time, because it is inaccurate. She isn’t alone. I am here, too. As a playmate, chase partner, hula hooper, nature explorer, tickler, adventurer, and a haven. I even let her stuff blankets under my shirt when she wants to play baby, despite the slight pang of emotion I feel with the scenario. But she is exploring life as an only, in her own way, so I embrace that. Whether it be my hand, foot, shadow, reflection, or mere implied presence and closeness — I am here. And we have fun! While I am certain her memory will remember, the photographic representation feels significant to me. Though this visual exploration has meandered through various emotional terrain — such as joy, questioning, healing, and thankfulness — what prevails above all, is simply connection and love. And it runs deeper than anything else.

SEVEN-EIGHT
This work is about a daughter. She turned eight and is growing incredibly fast.
This work is about time. Moment by moment. It flies.
This work is about an amazing little girl.
Who loves shoes and nail polish and hairbands and dolls and princesses and pink.
This work is about family. Including a puppy. Who eats dolls.
This work is about a mom. Who wants to bottle it all up and keep it forever.

I photographed all my daughter’s shoes in March 2015 (except for those old boots that were thrown away at the shoe store). If these shoes could talk, they would tell you an amazing story of a powerful little girl who has travelled a long way, a family learning about each other day-by-day, and a beautiful dance of life.

I photographed all my daughter’s bottles of nail polish. Because she had all these bottles of nail polish. As her hairbands frayed and other objects got broken, I photographed them before they moved out of our lives. As the old nursery rhyme suggests, by photographing them, I was “laying them straight.”

I am fascinated by how these little objects hold story – the pink flowered headband that she wore to school almost every day in first grade, her first Barbie doll – now devoured by the puppy, the princess crown to mark her eighth birthday – broken by me before the celebration could even begin. These things were hers when she was seven and eight.

Poppets and Blocking

The boats I photograph are not in the water; they live on poppets and blocks, in driveways and backyards — such a familiar part of the New England landscape that I’ve only recently started giving them any notice at all. Many of these boats are in disrepair, on the edge of ruin, and at risk of never returning to the water.

I believe these boats at one time represented hope, the idea that their restoration would bring close bonding to a family, become the vessel in which to wander and see the world, or function as an essential tool for providing income. Somehow, something got in the way of these intentions. Surely there must be stories behind these boats, where they came from and why they were left to slowly waste away. In my photographs I do my best to present these boats in a dignified fashion, to record them with respect, regardless of their stage of decomposition. To me, each of these boats is a visible remnant of loss: a loss of direction, the end of a productive career, the loss of someone’s life.. of an abandoned dream.

Every act of perception is an act of categorization. This concept allows us to relate entities together into classes, and provide a basis for understanding as well as implication. Although categorization enables us to organize the world, it is the social constructs of gender that shape our physical experience, more specifically, our public restroom experience. In the United States we actively participate in this ritual in public realms. As a member of the LGBTQ+ community, my goal is give voice to this act of categorization and the implications of how those who are marginalized by it are affected. These images aim to create a visual representation of a spatial narrative that impacts everyone, but more importantly, those who do not conform to a binary system. The categorization of people into two sexes is a social construction, imposed on an individual by society. With respect to social cognition, these images are mostly interested in the various subtle representations of gender identity through decoration, design and accentuation. It is those who do not necessarily adopt the corresponding masculine or feminine gender role that are at a disadvantage in relation to the environment in which people are required to choose one, or the other. My question is, once we pass the sign on the door, does it really matter?