Photography has always been an extension of my vision – I know, that seems obvious, but let me explain. When I put a camera up to my face I transform, like a mild-mannered superhero putting on a spandex suit. My power? Invisibility. In a photograph every frame is deliberate, edited and manipulated to present a specific point of view, no matter how ambiguous, accidental or impartial it may appear. The cloak of invisibility I am referring to is one that allows me to let go of my usually reserved nature and approach my surroundings with an instinctive curiosity. If I had my way, I would approach life with a camera lens attached to my head – a Cyclops, a bearer of the cap of invisibility. You see, it is more convenient that way. With vision in only one eye, I have transformed a two-dimension world using light, shadow and perspective.
My relationship to photography is one of both comfort and anxiety – a conflict that I see in life and my surroundings. It is why most of my stories are subtle, my images suggestive, there is no one truth and I am completely aware of the contradictions in life, the various gradations in between the light and the dark, capturing a series of defining moments for later reflection.
It is with some resolve that I place myself in front of the camera, easing myself out of my comfort zone in order to learn about portraiture, and with that come a whole mess of ideas about perceptions, expectations and context. Who knew I would cause so much distress by not smiling in a photograph? Do I in fact really look like Sarah Connor of Terminator fame? But that’s for another post.