My library of personal work.
Take photos when you’re ill.
Locked in my room, infected with COVID, I photographed. I photograph when I’m happy, sad, intrigued, disgusted — now I say I photograph when I’m ill.
Brunch in Chelsea, New York City.
An antique geisha doll lies near an abandoned car garage.
Tess and Maya embrace inside a Mexican restaurant's bathroom.
Bridget and Grace.
Crumb.
Grace.
Self portrait.
Friday night lights.
A lone outhouse stands out against an environment of sand.
A small colony of bees sap at fallen pears roasting in the sun.
Edgar grinds the rail before dropping down into the bowl.
A hike with friends.
The wetlands.
A rack of high heeled boots.
From her jewelry box: a project in memory
When my grandmother died, I inherited all her jewelry: chunky costume earrings, rusted gold watches that stained my wrist green, and a brooch of a cherub. I inherited much more than her treasure trove. I’ve kept every handwritten note, letter, scrap of paper she ever handed me. I also have her terrible eyesight.
Using photograms, I sought to immortalize these objects and the mark she’s left on me.
