First I made the “pretty” work, The Seventh Day and My Sycamore, then I graduated and life became “real”. I was terrified of growing up, fearful of leaving and scared of staying put. It was with this heavy heart that I drove to Maine. There I discovered a newfound honesty within myself, a different aesthetic centered around the oceans encouragement to just let go of my rigid photographic ways. With a lack of funds to continue down the path of shooting, processing and printing color film, I was left with a digital camera and the need to make it produce pictures that felt like me. After many months of wandering, photographing, writing and self-discovery, I am proud to share Vacationland with all of you.
Here is part one (the early years), parts two and three to come.
It took getting behind the wheel of my mother’s silver Corolla and driving twenty hours northeast to Maine – alone – for me to be far enough away from home to begin making honest work about it. At home I am romanticized by nostalgia, distracted by life. Away from the cornfields of Northwestern Ohio, I found symbols, stand-ins for my memories that were more truthful than the places in which they actually occurred.
Vacationland began in Maine, but has extended into something much larger. It is a book of poetry and of black and white photographs that expose the truths of growing up, revealing an adolescent, somewhat innocent, ascent into adulthood.