Upon arriving back to my hometown after graduating from college I discover a collection of old photographs that belong to my mother. Using the projector I purchased my freshman year, my mother and I spent the next two weeks in my room viewing over 3,000 slides from her early 20s. I examined her reactions as the light went in and out transitioning from slide to slide. I could see memories returning to her with every slide. The two of us together in a transition turmoil sitting in the dark gaining a new perspective at vastly different stages of our respective lives. It was kismet. My mother rediscovering her own life and myself discovering the life she had before I came along. She is a woman who has fought cancer twice, experienced betrayal, abuse, assault, and dishonesty from those she loved, and despite all this continues to create beauty wherever she roams. She is a writer, painter, photographer, gardener, sculptor, friend, sister, daughter, grandmother, and mother. Looking at the photographs she took during the same years that I am experiencing now in my life, I wonder how my own photographs will impact my future children. What they may discover about who I am, and the perspective it will bring to them. The true essence of photography. My mother's photography revealed to me just how precious and fragile life is but above all how absolutely beautiful. How all the people you've met along the way and the places you've been throughout your life almost seamlessly fall into place after being scattered through different times.
This website is for my mother. My quietly courageous, undeniably beautiful, wishful-thinking, rasta-hearted, definition-of-art, mother.