An urgency, a rush, a need to expose time is the stage for these photographs—taken with an iphone always in my pocket—which means I am always available for trying. It is time that I am looking curiously at to recognize loss and simultaneously become lost. Photography can frame, underscore, caress interludes.
I trust my peripheral vision to notice more than what I am looking at. These images are not about my daughters’ expression (though she is so thorough with movement), or the outline of the dog (though his shapes make me smile) but are instead fragile forces that never let up. Time, peripheral vision, an atlas of noticing transcends the thing in front of the lens; an archive of peeping that includes humor as well as fragile questions of when, what is,and why.
It is never what it is. Hindsight, short sight, or mere wishes are in front of me and on-notice, vigilantly drawing my attention. Time is the subject. Loss is a primer of my constant sideline stance. No-intention, peripheral vision is the most important surprise of seeing.
And let’s face it; I don’t want to forget I was there.
I photograph because the images meet my curiosity halfway. Halfway between intrigue and simple witnessing, halfway between time being and being.
Time is the backbone. It is the nature of noticing when crossing onto the hardwood from the rug, stepping over the threshold and looking through the screen door at something. Moments are up for grabs. Documented glimpses make sense of time and design a backbone, making sense of a story of intimate peeping.
These images to remind me I was there, I was awake, it is all fragile, it is beautiful, and never too much.