3/15/10

welcome, ghosts.

January 2, 2008. Chatham, Ohio.


A visit home.


It's so cold. (Beautiful things can be so wicked.)


December 24, 2007. Chatham, Ohio.


Came home on Christmas Eve. Dad was making a sign for the church.


(heavy metal.)



December 22, 2007. Akron, Ohio.


A visit to an old friend. They've moved. (The floor boards are still crooked.)



December 25, 2007. Strongsville, Ohio.


It was so good to hear their house fill with laughter. There hasn't been a lot of it since she died in October. (The dog keeps howling.)



March 12, 2008. Athens, Ohio.


It's such a blur. (It's all so clear.)



February 24, 2008. Athens, Oh.


I can still feel you.




alright. that may be enough of the black and white wintertime nostalgia from the archives for now. a group of OU grads asked to use some of my winter series for a magazine feature, which has encouraged me to dive back into the archives and memories, and begin to re-edit. It's been refreshing to rediscover the photographs. The best thing about diving back into the archives is looking at old moments that are still working their way through my consciousness.

sometimes the most important experiences in your life take a very long time to make sense. or maybe they never completely become clear as one specific meaning, but keep releasing little bits of clarity as time passes like whispers late at night. or maybe they just constantly transform and the meaning just changes every day, every time you look at them.

the world is melting.



January 2010. Chatham, Ohio.


Homestead. It's bittercold outside.


When you left a year ago, the phone became static. I thought the snow hitting the windows was rain tapping. (There would be another 3 months of ice.)


February 6, 2010. Athens, Ohio.


"The trees are so heavy with snow but they're still swaying, so slightly. If that's not a metaphor for something, I don't know what is."