One never knows when reality might change in the blink of an eye. At 17, I became paralyzed from the upper chest down while participating in something that I loved to do. As a result of this accident, I was incredibly close to death, and in this transient state of mind I had a distinct vision that I scribbled in my journal. In my vision, I sensed that I might be given another chance to live with the new purpose of giving back to others through my creative work. Though at the time I was not sure what the revelation meant, it was very clear that I would have something worthwhile to offer.
Even with everything that I lost and was told I would never gain back, I knew then and still today that things could always be worse. During this time, I began to shift my energy toward using my camera as a means to approach what I no longer could do. It was at this point that I started evolving into what I now consider myself to be: a visual re-searcher, one who observes fleeting moments and translates them into photographs. My work begins with an impulse that often turns into an adventure and results in a roll of film that becomes essentially a timeline. The unifying force of the work is my conscious effort to remain receptive to anything I might encounter.
I find that using 35mm roll film is most effective, as it introduces an aspect of unpredictability: I cannot know what I am capturing as I photograph. After the film is processed, I am intrigued by the roll’s consecutive frames, which work together to tell a story. This natural narrative represents an unforeseen truth of which I previously had only been subconsciously aware. It is this process that I feel directly represents the act of living and reflecting on everyday life. My camera is with me nearly all the time because the small-unexpected moments are often the ones we take for granted. I have come to recognize, however, that these are truly the moments most worth remembering.