Mighty & Whole

In May of 2021 I drove 1,045 miles to New Mexico to confront Joe Lopez, the man who molested me when I was a little girl.

I drove to give myself the time and space to be consumed by all that had happened. I drove to allow my voice no restriction in volume as I recited my truth. It felt freeing and righteous.

I stayed in the town he lived in for 2 nights before confronting him. I used my time to just be there and see the things he saw. To see what I saw. It was there that I solidified what I would say to him.

He walked through my life and affected me. My purpose in entering his life was to do the same. I wanted to empty my plate onto his.

I drove to his work on a Thursday morning.

I drove there to tell him that I was tired of the weight and shame of knowing him. I was there to dismantle his fantasies of my compliance and define my silence. I drove there to tell him that every ounce of my soul was screaming NO whenever he was near. That every little girl he touched was always screaming no. I carried their voices with me.

My voice was strong, my words were clear, his denials didn’t derail me but fueled me. No longer was I the little girl he convinced to be silent. Never had I felt so mighty and whole.

I brought my camera, my witness to see what I saw and tell my story.

The More I Know

The More I Know

The More I Know is about family. About creating a history rather than it being determined when all members of a family are present. Essentially, it is about becoming close to someone without their physical presence. This is a personal story, an intimate one. Although it is my story, I had to travel from California to Kansas to tell it. I’ve come to know that circumstances can create different paths. My path was predetermined by my father’s choice to leave the state prior to my birth. We met a few times during my formative years, however it wasn’t until later in life that we were able to reconnect intentionally. The last 5 years of his life was our most meaningful time together. I now photograph what’s left of his family in Kansas, to better understand what I have lost and what I have gained.

Although my father and I had limited time together, it is through stories and learning the common traditions of his family that I continue to understand who he was. It is through taking, printing and showing these photographs of his family, of my family, that I continue to gain some perspective of my father, his legacy and who I am in the process.

Time: It Is Poetic

These photographs were made during the month of March, 2020. It started out as a picture a day project with my cousin Anthony and turned into this book. This is what the Bay Area looked like at this particular time through this particular lens.

Coming home March 1st, I took a right on San Leandro Street from 66th Ave and this is what I found. Layers of Oakland goodness.

1968 Karmann Ghia.

The light still makes me squint.

This is Uncle Chucky’s truck. It is parked at my grandmother’s house, which is occupied by her boyfriend. She swore that it would be there forever.

This is a carnival that I will never be able to attend because of the damn coronavirus. My father was a carny and I wanted to do a project in that regard. It had opened very recently; it was open this day and I should have just bought tickets and started my project. But I decided not to. Thought I had time.

After taking a couple of photos of this Humber, Tim, the owner came out. It’s a 1965. He has had it for around 25 years. He liked my car, too. He said he used to have one and guessed it was a ‘67. He said it was the only year the flood lights were installed.

My rainbow flag is faded.

I think my family had that TV growing up. It lasted so long.

Drones wait their entire life to fly with the queen.

We walk by this curved archway on most days when we walk Calvin. Curved stucco archways will always remind me of my big grandma in Oakland. She had one just like it. She lived off Broadway Terrace, I loved that house. That basement was my childhood.

This day must have turned into the next, as they often do these days.

I have been seeing a lot more ice cream men in the neighborhood. Or maybe I’m just home more and they were always there. Either way, I scream for ice cream.

I wondered if all the stay in transportation would lessen the burden in our world. I was always told that pollution contributed to the color scheme in the sky. A week after the shelter in place, these clouds were pink. It takes as long as it takes.

And it’s almost as though another season has gone by, in far less than a month’s time.

It seems almost cruel. The distance between this chair and its pillow.

Please Love My Soul

As It Goes

As It Goes is an ongoing project. I began taking pictures of Steve in 2013 and stopped in 2019.

I became involved with Steve by convenient happenstance. He lives near my family in a small town. His life encompasses so much depth, both internally and externally. I attempted to capture some of that on film.

Home

Silver Gelatin Print, 11x14

Laundry

Silver Gelatin Print, 11x14

Morning Feeding

Silver Gelatin Print, 11x14

Boots

Silver Gelatin Print, 11x14

Access Road

Silver Gelatin Print, 11x14

Favorite Bird

Silver Gelatin Print, 11x14

Cunningham

Silver Gelatin Print, 11x14

Steve

Silver Gelatin Print, 11x14

Hair

Silver Gelatin Print, 11x14

Dress Up

Silver Gelatin Print, 11x14

Smoke

Silver Gelatin Print, 11x14

Family Portrait

Silver Gelatin Print, 11x14

Back Bone

Silver Gelatin Print, 11x14

Sister Mary

Silver Gelatin Print, 11x14

Creases

Silver Gelatin Print, 11x14

Fox

Silver Gelatin Print, 11x14

Play Boy Bunny

Silver Gelatin Print, 11x14

Heaven

Silver Gelatin Print, 11x14

Opposite Direction

In the spring of 2016, I took a road trip through a few select cities along the southern United States. I didn't really know what to expect beyond the hearsay, but was eager to check it out. In the beginning I was most concerned with visiting historical sites, however I soon became acquainted with the alluring peripheral landscapes.