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I struggled for a long time with what to call this work. It is an ongoing collection. I add to it with varying frequency.

I thought about calling it a diary but I don't think that name is right. I've seen other photography diaries. I don't think this is one of them.

It is separate from the rest of my work but inspires what I make and sometimes shows up there. I thought of it as a sketchbook for a short time but still that isn't right. I've been taking these photos for a long time and I keep taking them. I have binders filled with negatives on my shelves. It is an ongoing project.

For a while, I simply called the series of photos Close. I think a lot about distance. In many ways, it is what my work is about. I am plagued by questions about the origins of self. I say plagued because it is something I can’t know. What things do I unearth. What things do I inherit. How do these things shape the way I engage with the world? How do they decide the distance between me and the people and spaces around me?

Ever since I learned of it in high school math, I've had the concept of asymptotes in the back of my mind (at least what I understand of them). Two lines that get closer and closer but only touch at infinity. Moving closer to something that you will never reach. Trying to understand something you will never fully understand. Trying to uncover things that refuse to be unearthed. Surfaces that impede connection. That feels correct.

2004 - present

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