Kids are screaming. I never know if it’s joy or fear. Sometimes I think it’s a little of both.
How many of us think about a second chance at childhood? I think of the joy.
How many retreat to acting youthful impulsively as they grow older to recapture the youth? I think of the fear.
The kids are still screaming. I still don’t know if it’s joy or fear but I move on and pass them by.
Seattle, Washington
The sign seemed pleasant. It had a smiley face on it.
I think about an antiquated system that records every minute, rewriting over old bits of VHS tape. I wonder about returning daily and making sure the camera is put to use.
My optimism fades. There probably isn’t even a camera but if there was one, it would just upload to the cloud.
Seattle, Washington
I took a step to my right and found myself coping with defeat from the game of chicken we had found ourselves in. Her mouth slowly stretched apart revealing teeth. I walked away wondering if it was a sign of gratitude or acknowledgment of victory.
Seattle, Washington
I came across this man and asked if I could take his photo. He responded, why would I want to do that? I told him that I admire the work that he does and that I think it would be a good photograph. He said he didn’t like his own face and he wasn’t worth the photo.
I took the photograph. He laughed and went back to work.
Seattle, Washington
Leaves rustled as a panel of a fence pushed open to reveal a howling dog. Their head, now between two boards holding him back like two friends restraining a drunk at a bar fight.
I look over and say hello. The dog pauses. I shoot a photo. They begin to bark again.
I start to think about how this particular bar fight feels like it’s set at a Hard Rock Cafe. Any of their locations really. They’re all the same and I assume it’s that way by design. Lots of bark but a pretty big letdown.
I leave. No novelty shirt in hand.
Seattle, Washington
I walk around Copenhagen. I don’t live here. I see lives like mine but ever so different. Aged buildings made new again. People commuting.
The smokers. We have smokers back home but smoking here seems more integrated.
It’s night. I walk into a bar. I buy a fernet and a cigarette. I smoke tobacco for the first time in years. I look down at the carpet and wonder how many years of smoke have seeped into its fibers.
Copenhagen, Denmark
As I crossed the road the lady turned her head left and grinned with full confidence at the driver in his car. I turned around imagining myself as a flagman about to start the race. For a moment, there was no sound.
Everything came to a halt.
Copenhagen, Denmark
I walk until my legs are sore. I nap in the grass. I don’t worry about being fucked with. The thought doesn’t even cross my mind until after I wake up.
I walk some more. I sit on a bench. I wonder why I’m so tense when I’m home. Then I think about my routines. How I like them. How I embrace the grit. How I let the ruggedness define parts of me.
I think about how it’s actually untrue. It feels like a mask. I enjoy conversations with friends. I like seeing others let loose.
I realize I’m not as young as I think I am in my mind and I’m ok with it.
Copenhagen, Denmark
I felt like a fly.
Copenhagen, Denmark
Passage of Time is a project that focuses on the perception of time through impressionistic memories. It documents an undisclosed amount of time where I try to make as many memories as possible. Memories are photographed, printed out on instant film, and then taped to a wall chronologically. Often the memories are accompanied by writings produced right after the photo was made. The prints of memories are then left on a wall to be forgotten about. After about a year, the prints are taken down, placed into an archival box, shaken, and then stored in a closet.
A small run of books was made for this project that contains a random selection of memories. During the making of the book, I tried to sequence the photographs in chronological order by memory. I admit that I do question my recollection of time.
An edition of 65 books were self-made and produced. Each book is accompanied by a double-sided printed insert. The insert is a time card with handwriting on one side and information about the project on the other.
6.5” x 9”
23 photographs with accompanying writing
48 pages
Soft touch lamination cover
Hand-numbered