When my wife fell ill, our bed remained unmade and untouched for the 8 months of her absence. It was haunting. These photos are about some of the sensations that arose as it anchored me to our tough new reality.
The rectilinear areas that appear to lie on the surface of some of the images refer to traditional framing and act as a way of isolating and focusing as they foreground certain aspects of these heterogeneous images. The same is true of many of the angles and compositional elements. There are depictions of sadness, of self-absorption, of escapist fantasy, of guilt, of fatigue, of hope, and of love. There is nothing prosaic about our lives. We are challenged as never before.
Today is June 30, 2021, and our bed is in order.It’s made slowly and very neatly as we fold poetry into each day, together, with tender care.
