The Underpass. For You to Sleep on the Tree Tops. I fear I'd forget the heat of the summer if it never came, or the smell of pine needles a month into autumn, phenomena we barely notice until they pass us by or are somehow unattainable. As in the moments waking from a sleep, sometimes we are able to recall and make note of them, others are forgotten. I photograph people and environments from a perspective of being in an indistinct time and place. I want these photographs to be palpable, relying only upon one's own understanding and to be able to escape through these characters and the stories provided, rather than a factual, geographical place, grounded in what we think we know. I'm making these photographs through the practice of living through another, living vicariously through other lives. As Margaret Atwood puts it, "I write as if I've lived a lot of things I haven't lived".