weatherproof digital print onto PVC panel, MDO, oak, aluminum channeling 6.5' x 8' x 1.5" 2013
As part of a commission for the I-Park Environmental Art Biennial in Connecticut, I scouted out a location within the grounds of the sculpture park to photograph. I wanted the location to be representative of this lush forest in summer, but it was important that the scene not be too memorable or picturesque.
The printed photograph and the frame that holds it have been fabricated to withstand the New England weather for many years. Installed near to where the original photograph was taken, but not in the exact place, the image aims to respond to the entirety of the forest as opposed to a specific spot. Leaning against a tree, its display is meant to feel provisional, as if it could easily be moved and yet its relation to its surroundings would remain the same.
As the season's change, how the image relates to the landscape will vary from being similar in appearance (in summer) to dramatically different (in winter). Within this setting, this photograph will act as a constant, drawing attention away from itself and toward the change that surrounds it.
Narration (Amy Hempel, Tumble Home)
digital prints on PVC panel, wood double-sided billboard, 6' x 5' x 4" 2013
In her short story, "Tumble Home," writer Amy Hempel describes a moment, or rather the possibility of a moment, and the way it has the potential to collapse space and time. Wanting to visually depict this line of text, I created a sculptural version of it that was held by four people for two separate photographs on the grounds of Chesterwood (the home of sculptor Daniel Chester French): the first in front of the mansion and the second from the opposite vantage point facing the distant mountains.
Both weatherproof photographs are displayed within a double-sided billboard in the exact location from where they were taken. The images depict a moment, possibly an imagined moment, that now exists solely in its sited representation.
c-prints 16" x 20" each (30 total) 2009-2010
Where I live in upstate New York it snows so much that it has to be consolidated into large piles. This is most noticeable in places like parking lots. Long after winter has ended and the snow elsewhere has melted, these mounds stick around, isolated and anomalous. While shopping in spring I come across them. Transfixed by their ability to confound scale, they take on the appearance of miniature mountain ranges. Like an iceberg that has floated into warmer waters, I have taken to documenting these temporal, receding models.
Trees Hit By Cars
offset printed book (edition of 500) 7" x 9.25" 2007
Growing up, there was a big oak tree at the bend of our street that appeared to grow stronger each time it was hit by a car. As a child I believed that it was the lives of those drivers that made it stronger, their life force collected by the tree on impact. Having driven around the country on secondary roads in search of trees that were hit by cars, I discovered them through various tactics: police reports, insurance claims, public knowledge, and chance encounters. In 2007 I was given the opportunity to have a book of these photographs printed. Along with the fifty photographs, the book contains an essay by curator Toby Kamps, and a commissioned short story by Charles McLeod.
framed digital prints 16" x 20" each (30 total) 2006 - 2007
Growing up in a rural part of the country that my family had resided in for generations, I was raised on certain regional truisms. We were taught that it was a sign of an impending storm when you could see the underside of the leaves, better known as "the light side." Though often accurate, what interested me more than its meteorological predictability is the feeling of excitement that this visual phenomenon continues to illicit for me, even into adulthood. In an ongoing series of photographs I attempt to document this truism in action.
framed c-print 40" x 50" 2006
There is a creek that runs through the small town that I grew up in. Though it wasn't that deep, during the summer we would swim in it. At a bend in the creek hung a ropeswing. Returning to the location as an adult, the tree still had steps nailed into it, but all that remained of the rope were a few feet of it where it was tied to the tree. In this photograph I imagined the missing rope returning in its spirit form as a series of knotted golden chains.
Lost at Sea
50 framed digital prints 11" x 14" each (50 total) 2005 - 2006
While an artist-in-residence at the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, Massachusetts, I took an interest in how strong an effect the ocean and the weather had on the people of Cape Cod, both historically as well as into the present day. The phrase "lost at sea" resonated with me, conjuring up images of dead men floating in the ocean while their women waited alone for them. I began photographing every tombstone on the Cape that contained those words. What intrigued me in particular about burial plots for people lost at sea was that, unlike the other tombstones in the cemetery, these plots are empty, marking only the place where the body might have been buried if it were to be found.
Glory Hole Covers
framed c-prints 24" x 24" each (12 total) 2005 - 2006
Anonymous gay sex occasionally takes place in public bathrooms through holes that are created between the stalls. To deter this type of interaction, steel plates are mounted over these holes.