family
The Howard family could have avoided much of the flooding of Hurricane Sandy, had their application for raising their home been approved after first applying for the grant immediately after Hurricane Irene, over a year prior.
My family during Hurricane Sandy. The preparation, the realization, and the continuation or rebuilding. In comparison, we are lucky, and we fully realize that.
A photo of me, my father, and my sister. I don’t remember much of my childhood, particularly when I had blonde hair (apparantly). I do remember my father teaching me to play baseball, and all the days spent at the batting cages. It’s interesting how over the course of any number of years the relationships within family structure dissolve/adapt/evolve/dissipate/resurface
An “ab rocket” that sits idly by in my parents’ room. It’s been siting idly by in the corner for quite some time, too long for me to pinpoint a time. It continues to sit in the same corner without use. I’m not even sure it’s ever been used or if my mother or sister just like to keep the plastic on it.
My sister gets her hair cut in the backyard. After various suggestions of “leaving my house” with the photographs, this is a good start for me. I was wary to begin photographing my family outside of my house solely because of the foreign nature of it. The amount of activity and level of chaos that exists within my house almost creates a sense of uneasiness in leaving it. All the while, this same chaos that proves interesting also creates a level of claustrophobia. I’ve been torn with the idea of leaving my house primarily due to the idea of the family being such a personal entity, and that families are ALWAYS a complete alteration of themselves when they are not in their own familiar environment. After toying with this idea, I’ve also acknowledged that the environment surrounding my house is equally as important as the environment inside of my house, and is as equally as intimate and personal. Therefore, I’ve been trying to find a way to work the idea of really exploring the environment outside of my house, all while preserving the integrity of the quality of intimacy that exists in the environment that I have been exploring.
My mother walking down the stairs. It continues to get that much more difficult with this project when people pose the question, “what are you trying to say”, and it’s even more difficult when faced with the question, “explain this project to me”. Maybe the results of this project will answer these questions for those who view it.
