My mother and father met over the dissection of a cadaver. I often wonder if that finalizing moment, allowing my mere existence possible, could have fluidly transcended time; imprinting, through my works process, a macabre need to resurrect my truth through symbolism. Photographed moments of space and time I had never meant to be exactly as they were in genesis are forged together, simultaneously reincarnated into a new surreal reality; a new truth. In birthing new pieces I am conscious of this new reality as I place each photograph upon photograph, while never forgetting where I was physically and where I was in the climate of life itself at that very moment of genesis in capture. The Photographist® was founded in the late 1990’s as a way to nurture and merge a blood lust need for both fine art and historical photographic processes.
Most of my inner most creative inceptions come together under the sensory depraved darkness of a welding helmet; covered in dirt and metal shavings. The anonymity of such an environment often leaves me mentally mulling over photographed memories of guttural southern thunderstorms, lightning bugs, blighted structures and bodies of water, which are prevalent in much of my work. The oneness of this process leads me to my journaling and sketching of what will be the next composited or painted image. Southern Louisiana living and the all inclusive sensory immersion birthed The Photographist® Home Collections. The beating heart within this experience is best described through color, image, patterns and texture.
These are the moments of pedals and thorns, of the most sincere honesty with one’s self, where the conscious and subconscious collide for placement, for composition, for sense. For sense of the world around me. For sense of the past, the present, moments yet revealed and possibly even my own mortality. The allegorical realities of The Photographist ® Home Collections are merely a vessel to question all I know to be true, of all I thought to be true and of whom I’ve always been. I am not a writer and I do not aspire to be……..why is it words are always required for a thing that is best explained with sight?
I welcome you to my world.