Growing up, one of my most vivid memories of my mother is of her with her camera hanging around her neck. It was a hobby for her, but like any of her hobbies, she dove in full force. As a kid, I remember pieces of furniture peppered around the house with drawers crammed full of photos of our family. We were a well-documented group. But when it came to special events or benchmark times, she became particularly meticulous about getting us all together to mark the occasion. And those images were the ones that ended up on the wall and in the picture frames in our house. The ones that traced the story of our family. Who we were as a group and as individuals. Our mythology. I can still remember where each one of those pictures was placed in the house and how each one cataloged a different step on our journey. Everyone has a story about who they are and where they come from...
And that is what I am interested in. Who are you? Where have you been? Where are you going? My mother's first question on meeting a stranger was invariable "Where are you from?" What the stranger didn't know was that that was just the first of a barrage of questions. And when it was all over they were going to have filled in all the details of who they were. It is the same thing for me...only I ask you with a camera. Show me who you are. So that when others see your images, they will get the same glimpses of truth...and the same details of your story...
