I spend a lot of my time walking with a heavy pack full of camera and film equipment. I take pictures. I then go home and dream of things I saw, or things I think I saw. Things I didn’t photograph. Sometimes I go back to find these things, but more often I use photographic processes to recreate them or the unshakable feeling I have about them.

The photographs made in the field and the physically staged, digitally constructed, or appropriated images are not all that different in the end. They each contain slivers of reality and imagination, combined and compressed into flat sheets of paper. The photographic print democratizes all the varied ways of remembering and reinterpreting experience.

In a desire to understand myself and the world around me, I am easily seduced by the consumptive act of looking. So I work to make objects that reflect back this stubborn desire. Objects are veiled behind the dense pigments that render them visible. Forms come in and out of view under the intense light that illuminates them. These photographs are an exercise in futility, an attempt to frustrate the desire to turn visual information into knowledge, an attempt to turn knowledge into meaning.