Control is often desired but rarely attained. Through an examination of my own compulsive need for control, I have developed a keen awareness of how useless an attempt is. Using photography, I am able to create permanence and confront momentary anxieties. By adjusting lighting and framing, instability becomes a controlled environment and photography functions to alleviate the tension between want and fulfillment.
Though one might be painfully aware that the attempt to control the natural progressions of human existence is ultimately futile, the desire remains. In my practice, the pursuit to control does not exclusively apply to an avoidance of chaos. Rather, I feel that the innate human desire to manipulate surroundings is forcefully driven by the possibility that ultimate control of one’s reality does not exist in any form. That is, it is a part of human nature to dominate the unpredictability of time and space, but this concept is a paradox. My photographic practice stands as both something that achieves control, but also something that references a desire for it. The images do not blatantly allude to tension, but it is often within the subtleties that the emotion is transferred.
On the whole, my images often shift between unrelated subjects, from something so obviously personal as a bedroom, to a formal observation of shifting sunlight. But it is both the abstracted view of unrecognizable materials as well the obsessive examination of my own skin that allow me to observe the push and pull between perceived control and subsequent lack thereof. Through recognition of momentary lapses and physical manipulation of materials, I create images that reflect human needs and inevitable inadequacy. My images exist somewhere between representation and abstraction—begging for verification, yet never granting it.