I am compelled to photograph people’s homes out of a belief that we can learn about others through the ways they inhabit their spaces, and the possessions that fill those spaces. The dishes drying next to the sink, the day’s clothes flung over the closet door, the elegant sofa sinking into quiet disrepair, and even the items that get left behind on moving day: how do such everyday objects in our homes unveil the order and the disorder of modern life? 

What we bring into our homes, and how we arrange our personal spaces, reveal some of our basic creative urges. As they have for centuries in the visual arts, still lifes emerge amidst the controlled chaos of everyday life. The realities are revealed in the details. The beautiful, the dilapidated, the precious, and the transitory exist alongside one another, sometimes embodied by the same thing or space. Although never pictured, the inhabitants seem to linger just outside the frame, so tangible is the mark they’ve left on inanimate objects. Looking down onto my camera’s ground glass, I distill compositions out of the secret structures that surround us in our domestic lives. One of the most famous of public spaces, the Pantheon, was conceived so that the sun traversing the sky revealed and honored each god in turn with its passing light; the same phenomenon occurs in our personal spaces if we do not overlook it, unaware.