no one can draw more out of things, books included, than he already knows. a man has no ears for that to which experience has given him no access
whom, if i cried out, would hear me among the angelic orders? and even if one of them pressed me suddenly to his heart: i’d be consumed in his stronger existence. for beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, which we can just barely endure, and we stand in awe of it as it cooly disdains to destroy us. every angel is terrifying
the world i see is the one i already know. the world i find is inside of me. my life is as much projection as it is observation. more and more i have come to find that although my photographs are not of me, i am in fact, in all of them. photography has saved my life. through the camera i have found a way to express the beauty within the great sadness i have welling up inside of me. my own lifelong struggles with finding my own place in the world fuel my attention to a sadness and loss in the world. these portraits serve to investigate the gestures and bearing of our selves in the public sphere that express the depth and weight of the human condition.