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Desolation and solitude are two adjectives that I would use to describe my Polaroid photographs, another two would be the Japanese term 'Wabi Sabi". The sim- plicity of 'flawed beauty' comes from the expired film I use to create a reflection of love and loneliness.

My dream of accepting so called 'imperfection' is in fact a a realizing of a different world view for which there's no way back. The shiny, perfect point of view is crumbling and has been for a long time. Formally, my work was called blurry, broken or even botched but they fail in the test of acceptance that all things are imperfect. It's a seismic shift for some but in this age where the cracks are no longer hidden, the affirmation of reality is still difficult. But that's so depressing right? To acknowledge that the dream is actually turning into a nightmare. It's easier to deny than to utter the truth of defeat. (ruin)

That we are all finite is irrefutable but we just don't want to believe it. That's how organized reli- gion managed to take the hold of the masses but that too is waning these days. Proving that everything has it's time, even God.

I began expressing myself through photography before the digital age we currently inhabit and certainly predating 'Instagram' which has been used to describe my artwork, but is it not then, Instagram who copied me?

Understanding the skill of analog film which requires that conditions be right before the click of the shut- ter is in stark  contrast to todays, post production photography.

I was the first to use expired film for my voice which has led to an avalanche of repetition. The celebration of imperfection reconnects us to the real world where we normally mask our flaws.

I chose Polaroid film because it portrays color like candy making even the broken an expression of endear- ment. The combination of the color and the blemishes of expired Polaroid analog film gave me a sense of in- ner peace with my surroundings. It just fit. Nothing had portrayed my vision so symbolically. "The film schools I went to scoffed at my discovery blinded by the very imperfections that expressed my passion and love. They still do but there's a new generation com- ing who accept, who have never known or been taught to perform in the same generic way. Frankly, It's liberating.

The quirks, oddities or the perfectly imperfect uniqueness of my work relate to our own life blemishes and somehow make them ok or even remarkable. Honoring that value of imperfection makes it permissible to be. One might put the world into two camps, the ones who appreciate the beauty of imperfection and the ones who don't. Let me warn you now, those who attempt to see and are successful, can never return. To see that perspective is to have gone into a twilight zone of understanding where your former self is altered for- ever and the once revered is no longer possibly seen with beauty.

The acceptance/engagement in the spontaneity of life releases unnecessary thoughts of judgmentalism which I find to be roadblocks in the road to equality.

I plan engagements in spontaneity for any new project or photo shoot.  Allowing space and time for the magic moment to manifest and capturing that enchantment.

I use my senses and current affairs to plot that path of serendipity especially when it's a mark of turbu- lence. The upheaval of balance is the key for chance and allows all unknown forces to contribute to the moment.

This is what it means to me.

The first rule in art is that there are no rules. I look inside myself, ground that emotion and imagine it in a dream. It's the only thing that make any sense to me.

Dreams are the foundation of emotion and the link to our sub-conscience. The link between my work and your sub-conscience is that you can insert yourself into the story itself. I try to clarify my nightly dreams subjectively with a cup of nostalgia in a bowl of emotions and sprinkle it generously with sex. It is there, the fountain of our instincts.