I see beauty in the smallest things. I do not create, I simply document.
The beauty I collect
exists regardless of my gaze and in spite of my tools. I use a camera and a back pack to collect
gloves from roads and new faces. Like a glove without a hand, or work without purpose, there
lies mystery in the found. The gloves I discover have a story, some familiar and some never to
be known. During August 2010, I walked from the Ninth Ward of New Orleans to the Gulf of
Mexico to find the story of the Louisiana worker. The roads between gathered objects and
people alike. It was the fifth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina and the oil spill in the gulf
about to be capped. These are the gloves that I found.