2020

It was a bewildering, absurd world I found myself in during the first chaotic months of the Covid-19 outbreak. Through invented juxtapositions, metaphor and a bit of whimsy, these photo composites of my neighbors in front of my house portray the confused and off-kilter feeling I had then, and which still lingers today.

Spring arrived with colors, almost toxic through my pandemically altered mindset. Although I was in an anxious, foggy state, my senses had become hyper-active.

With most of us sheltered in place, our cars parked in driveways and garages, pedestrian traffic had increased remarkably in my quiet town. People paraded by on the street, some of whom I’d never seen before; young and old, parents with children, and more and more dogs as the weeks went by. I began to photograph what I observed from the steps of my front porch. Looking back, I see that this work served two purposes for me, although I wasn’t aware of them at the time. On the surface, it was a way to ground me; to use my camera; to occupy my time. It drew me outside in the fresh, warm air and, as a bonus, connected me with my neighbors. On a deeper level, it allowed me to express the emotions and thoughts that were whirling around inside me like a March wind.  

I started without a plan. I knew only that I would use the touch-screen shutter so as not to hide my face behind the camera, and I would use a tripod on a marked position which would remain the same as the weeks and months passed. That in itself, I realized later, reflected the repetition; the mind-bending Groundhog Day effect we had come to live with.  

At first the photos were candids. Sometimes the passers-by turned and acknowledged me, and I realized I wanted more engagement. Missing my usual social interactions, I became more conversational, and they would stop and talk. I explained that I was making pictures of life on our street during this time, and most people were friendly, even excited to be part of it. I soon encouraged them into the walkway, being watchful of the dreaded 6 ft. distance, and the closer they got and the more comfortable they felt, the more I liked the photos. I pressed the shutter over and over again as we chatted away, sometimes for a few minutes and other times longer.

I continued shooting over the period from May through September. I wanted the series to cover just that brief moment in time, when the changes in our lives were still unfamiliar and the initial shock was still fresh. 

The idea to reconstruct the photographs came to me fairly early. With already hundreds of images to sort through, the more I looked at them the more I knew something was missing. My approach was visually interesting but it felt too real, like a cross between documentary and street photography, neither of which felt right and didn’t match what was going on in my head. It became clear that I would take the series in a more imaginative direction. As the virus numbers increased and social and political unrest became more alarming by the day, I digitally rearranged my characters in more incongruous ways. Though labor-intensive, it became an entertaining process as I made up little stories for the new vignettes. It was as if my wish to change reality and my doubts about what to believe were coming through in my images.

“Imagined Moments from the Porch” is a kind of theatrical narrative made up of fictional scenes I carefully compose to depict my off-beat version of these dark, confusing, and time-blurred days.