Since becoming a parent, my work has become a kind of visual eavesdropping on moments of childhood that transport me back to the emotional terrain of my own childhood. Most of the time I find myself trailing behind, or off to the side of, my daughter and her friends as they navigate the world of childhood: of small wonders and early heartbreak, of wild freedoms, of old-fashioned fear of the dark, and of the moments between the moments that make up a day.
Before I became a parent I worked in antiquated photo processes and spent long stretches of days in the darkroom. But a child will drag you out of the dark and into a fast moving world where bulky cameras just bounce around and most likely get lost or left behind. And so I shoot with the camera that’s always with me, my phone, and I edit as I go, wherever I am, standing in line at the post office, or sitting in the pediatrician’s waiting room. I take what I’ve shot and transform the images through applying layers and layers of apps until I make an image that looks like the captured moment felt to me when it all first caught my attention, that emotional terrain of