Hidden in even the most forlorn, discarded object lies a splinter of promise. My practice is fueled by the search for these abandoned artifacts and the chance to make them shine. I covet the underdogs that go unsold in thrift stores and antique malls. I’m drawn to chips and scratches, rips and creases. I embrace lonely things that are as unmoored as me. The connection is personal and emotional.

These things are fragile—not materially, for they have survived years of neglect. But they are parts without a whole, separated from their tribe and function. They have lost their names and fallen into humble and mute abstraction. I add them to my collection.

They revive in my studio, in front of the camera, in the company of fellow orphans. Their abstraction now becomes a gift. That promising splinter is now fully aglow with a new voice replacing their muteness.

This is what I love about photography; how objects whose only real connection is juxtaposition can converse and conspire to craft their own universe. Once overlooked, these objects are now the center of attention. The camera performs this transformation effortlessly.

Alongside photography, I have discovered a love of drawing. This passion is new and raw and seems to erupt from a part of me that has been dormant until now. My gestures — on paper and with my digital toolbox — find their way inside or atop the printed image. And they are likely to exaggerate or contradict the image’s surface with rupture and dissonance.

My work creates problems for its audience, but I hope it also evokes the joy I feel in their creation. Can pleasure and disturbance be tethered together? That is what I’m seeking in my recent work.