Portfolio > Light Always Makes Dark

Baby Spoon
Archival Pigment Print
10" x 15"
2014
Bones
Archival Pigment Print
4" x 6"
2014
Lilies
Archival Pigment Print
6" x 9"
2014
Unravel
Archival Pigment Print
7" x 10.5"
2014
Bite
Archival Pigment Print
6" x 9"
2014
Gone
Archival Pigment Print
6" x 9"
2014
Float
Archival Pigment Print
10" x 15"
2014
Ribbons
Archival Pigment Print
10" x 15"
2014
Wilt
Archival Pigment Print
10" x 15"
2014
Bird 13
Archival Pigment Print
13" x 19"
2014
Gas Mask
Archival Pigment Print
10" x 15"
2014
Alastair's Stare
Archival Pigment Print
10" x 15"
2014
Alastair Bird
Archival Pigment Print
10" x 15"
2014
Man Masks
Archival Pigment Print
7" x 10.5"
2014
Ephraim's Coins
Archival Pigment Print
10" x 15"
2014
Teeth
Archival Pigment Print
10" x 15"
2014
Marked
Archival Pigment Print
13" x 19"
2014
Crowd
Archival Pigment Print
13" x 19"
2014
Boots
Archival Pigment Print
10" x 15"
2014
Candy Dish
Archival Pigment Print
4" x 6"
2014
Falling
Archival Pigment Print
10" x 15"
2014
Brass Box
Archival Pigment Print
7" x 10.5"
2014
Little House
Archival Pigment Print
4" x 6"
2014
Balloon
Archival Pigment Print
4" x 6"
2014
Alastair's Mask
Archival Pigment Print
13" x 19"
2014
Ephraim's Mask
Archival Pigment Print
13" x 19"
2014
Empty
Archival Pigment Print
4" x 6"
2014
Lace
Archival Pigment Print
4" x 6"
2014
Ephraim's Plague
Archival Pigment Print
10" x 15"
2014
Chair
Archival Pigment Print
7" x 10.5"
2014
Mother
Archival Pigment Print
10" x 15"
2014
Feather
Archival Pigment Print
4" x 6"
2014
Ash
Archival Pigment Print
6" x 9"
2014
Dry
Archival Pigment Print
6" x 9"
2014
Hollow
Archival Pigment Print
6" x 9"
2014
Fragile
Archival Pigment Print
13" x 19"
2014
Frame
Archival Pigment Print
4" x 6"
2014
Moss
Archival Pigment Print
7" x 10.5"
2014
Single
Archival Pigment Print
6" x 9"
2014

On a cold afternoon in late November when my then 3-year-old son and I were playing shadow puppets snuggled up against the weather in his bedroom he made the statement, “Light always makes dark.” For him, he was simply stating an observation he made while playing with his mom, a flashlight, a few stuffed animals and some action figures. For me, it was a profound summary of that moment, and every moment leading up to it, starting eight years earlier when his father and I first met.

This series of images is about how the gift of this family did not come without strings attached. The intense illumination of them is inseparable from the deep shadows of worry, fear, and anxiety that arrived when they did. I spend most days basking in the glow and warmth that my children and their father have brought to my life. I am grateful for every minute and behave as such. I have never felt more connected, competent, or necessary. Yet, I worry almost obsessively about my son’s todays and tomorrows. Will they be happy? Will they make somebody else happy? Will the world be kind to them? Will they be kind to the world? I fear things I cannot see, cannot predict, and cannot control. Sickness, loneliness, secrets, war, abuse, depression, cruelty, self worth, heartbreak…the list is endless. I have anxiety about my ability to guide them to independence and a fulfilling adulthood. I am scared of being responsible for something so precious and so delicate.

When I was a young adult I watched my mother lose her husband, my father, to a short but vicious battle with cancer. I saw her world that was thick and rich with laughter, hope, plans, accomplishments, security, support, and partnership unravel in a matter of weeks. I saw a man whom I had always viewed as strong, brilliant, funny, selfless, and engaged wither to a whisper of his former self and then disappear altogether. It was tragic and agonizing for them and for their children. I fear being in my mother’s shoes. I fear seeing my husband meet the same fate as my father.

Now that I know this luminous life, I want it. I cannot live without it. I also now know that to have it, I have to accept the dark that the light always makes.