
I always loved wandering the streets, finding moments that make me feel emotions I attempt to capture with my photography. I’ve been meaning to start sharing my work for a while. Today I thought, why wait til New Year’s to jump on a new habit?

Some satisfy their curiousity through the study of medicine, others through mathematics or astronomy or countless other fields of study. I satisfy mine through the act of creation. 

Children imitate their parents. If we are all children of the Universe [or “God“ for some], then I suppose my need to create is an imitation of my Creator, and a way for me to clarify my own existence. Human beings have intended to explain our own existence via creative expression ever since we evolved to the point of self-consciousness. 

The act of creation is irrefutably an act self-definition. As such, It’s taken me a lifetime of practice and study to develop my creative philosophy. I feel strongly that it’s worth sharing. Creating and sharing from a place of love and passion is good for the creator and good for the viewer. My mantra: “Art is a community service”

I took this photo in the aftermath of the George Floyd video release. It remains “Untitled”. On top of everything going on during that time in 2020, seeing that video had a profound personal effect on me as a Black man. Something switched off for a moment - that feeling of self-preservation which normally encompasses and affects me every time I pour myself into the night and go out exploring with my camera - that feeling of wondering if someone may see what I have and want it for themselves. My camera [Nikon D850] ain’t cheap, and I worked my ass off to get it. I never wanted to fight for it, yet subconsciously was always prepared to.

On this night, however, I just didn’t care. I didn’t care what happened to me. I didn’t care about fighting. I wandered my Central City [New Orleans] neighborhood with a bottle and my imagination - not fearless, but helpless. Who cares what happens to me? What’s the point? After seeing a man strangled to death in broad daylight, crying for his mother….

Somehow I feel this photo articulates my emotional state at that time more than all my preceding words - my long exposure articulating the sharp, vicious lines of the shadows of the wrought-iron juxtaposed against the radiance of something glorious just on the other side of the barrier. 

Thankfully, I found hope and beauty again, but this is as good a place as any to begin the story I wish to share with you. Let me know what feelings it inspires in you! An artist is nothing without an audience. 

This retrospective is my journal, thank you for reading. More to come.


[Re]Collections, Day 1