The world holds vast beauty, yet I often forget this–it is my foundational human flaw.


The camera is ultimately a tool for recording and collecting–I am both drawn to and repulsed by its tacit promise of preservation and thus control. It feels as though, by photographing my world, I create my legacy; but I am by no means naive enough to believe I have achieved anything in doing so.  I worship a false promise; a fallacy.


The subjects I most seek to visualize are often photographically intangible, thrusting me into a reality in which my chosen tool is intriguingly insufficient.


And yet, like a proverbial moth, I continually seek to photograph my physical world in order to visually manifest my inner one.


Fleeting gestures, last light, open wounds, long shadows, blinking subjects and long stares have become my visual vocabulary of late. I am consumed by such a longing–to savor, to hold still, to greedily drain each and every last drop while knowing that I am both filled and emptied by these acts.


The seeking will break my heart, and yet I must seek.

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