I started taking my photographs apart early in the pandemic. At first, it was a sort of meditation on the state of separation that Covid required – the pieces were a metaphor for how fragmented life had become. Six feet apart. No gatherings beyond your household. Smiles covered. No hugs or handshakes.
It wasn’t easy for me to cut these photographs. They had taken time, thought and expensive materials to make. I searched for what I felt were “throwaways” and used those. This made me wonder if my own work had become too precious. (Was I not taking chances anymore?) Eventually, I ripped, cut and skewered the “good” stuff. It felt freeing to let go, to see what else the images could become, what other perspectives might be revealed, how the pieces might be whole again.