Reflections are the beauty of a childhood imagined. The daydream of life captured in a flash of sunlight and sea sparkle. I dig turning the world on its end; diving inside (outside) to peek beneath (beyond) the ordinary world I face everyday.
The dreaminess of reflection aptly resembles the many layers that life hands us. Nothing is as it seems, I say. And so I gaze into puddles, searching for other dimensions. Through reflection, two worlds break free to become one. Two selves connect at the ankle while standing in a cold New England puddle.
Photography is equal parts abstract art and truthful storytelling. Reflections provide creative control. Bending and twisting my world into something surreal and obviously obscure, I take pleasure in tweaking my reality. The space around me doesn’t define me when I make it my own. We are all the versions of self we’ve ever been. Who we once were (at the same time) who we are now. Together yet different, we are one and the same.
Reflections become windows into our minds. Like paint on canvas; it’s a glimpse of a loved one, abstracted but true. We catch each other in passing, these reflections. Images become words, thoughts, and dreams. They mark a place in time: the confusion of life turned inside outside upside down or an honest mirror into reality. I’m not from here, I’m from everywhere… and it’s vaguely familiar at the same time disorienting.
Welcome to my world.