I have a deep love for animals. This leads to joy, heartbreak, and varied emotions in between.
This ongoing series invites the viewer to pause and look into the lives of animals in everyday situations, in ordinary settings, and to ponder what these sentient beings might be feeling, thinking, or experiencing.
All of us who call the earth our home are interconnected and in some ways interdependent. I believe it is through empathy, compassion, wonder, and insight, which I hope this series evokes, that we begin to more fully recognize these connections and our responsibility to care for one another and for our mutual home.
To step into an empty sanctuary is to enter another world, hushed and echoey, full of dust-covered stories and prayers lingering through the years. I sit and listen to the creaks, touch the hymnals frayed from use, and experience a depth of solitude. Photography becomes meditation.
I step outside and still see God everywhere: on bumper stickers, yard signs, and telephone poles. In the wider landscape, out under the sky, I feel small and begin to think we are like little children wearing tinsel halos and catawampus wings.
I drive down the road and pass by closed doors, curtained windows, and abandoned churches which mirror the evanescence of my own certainty about anything.
Nine years ago, I went through a harrowing pregnancy and miscarriage. It felt as if God was still there, somewhere, but locked off in another room and inaccessible to me. That disorienting sense of presence obscured lingers even now.
In this ongoing series of photographs, I share what I experience as an ethereal sense of presence, alongside themes of longing, loss, and abandonment. I’m also drawn to things that seem a little off because I see myself in these less than perfect scenes.
The photographs explore, through sense of place, both the shifting culture of Christianity in the South and the story of my own impaired faith
I Feel Small, Louisiana, 2019
Valley of the Shadow, Alabama, 2018
The Sound of Sheer Silence, Alabama, 2019
Prayer for Illumination, Alabama, 2018
Been on My Knees So Long, Alabama, 2018
A Great Storm Arose. He was Asleep, Alabama, 2018
Shadow of the Cross, Alabama, 2018
Broken, Alabama, 2018
Crown of Thorns (Domestic Violence Sunday), Alabama, 2018
It is Finished, Alabama, 2018
Forsaken, Alabama, 2019
They have Taken Him Away (Rev. Dr. MLK Jr’s Church), Alabama, 2019
A Prayer for the Vanishing, Alabama, 2019
Knock, Alabama, 2018
Palm Crosses & Christmas Lights, Alabama, 2018
Can a Mother Forget, 2019
Were You There, Mississippi, 2018
Where Two or Three are Gathered, Alabama, 2018
Waiting for Sunday, Alabama, 2018
Golgotha, Alabama, 2018
All Through the Night, Alabama, 2019
She Thought He was the Gardener, Alabama, 2019
The Curtain was Torn from Top to Bottom, Mississippi, 2009
Taste and See, Alabama, 2018
Your Light Will Come, Alabama, 2018
My Soul will Magnify the Lord, Alabama, 2019
Open Wide Your Mouth and I Will Fill It (Church Food Pantry), Alabama, 2018
Paradise (Church accommodations originally for Katrina Relief Volunteers), Mississippi 2018
The Wise Men (Ready for Storage), 2019
Human beings are absent in this series on the American South, yet their presence is seen and felt. In the stillness, I imagine the stories which linger in remnants left behind, conversations shared around crowded tables, and the people who have paused in each place throughout the years. Tenacity and transience are here, and sometimes time stands still.
As I have wandered through this hot and steamy region that I call home, I have been surprised by beauty in the familiar and enchanted by ordinary details imbued with the mystery of the unknown.
The Rainiest City
As the rain splatters, splashes, drips, and thrums, a music arises unique to each place and to each storm. In a similar way each type of rain creates distinctive visual patterns, and brightens, deepens, or softens the colors we see.
When I look out the window I am drawn to the painterly scenes created by rain. As one who has lived through the destructive power of hurricanes and other traumas, I find peace, strength, and hope in this everyday beauty and grace.