Ya know how when you go to a place, and you’re present, but it still doesn’t feel like you’re…there? It’s hard to describe. It’s a underlying sense of being disconnected. Lack of belonging. You exist. But on the outside. You’re like a +1, rather than a person requested by name. An extra in someone else’s movie. Filling space. Invisibly. I don't often feel like one of the people on the other side. One of the people in the group. A main character. Sometimes that feeling creeps up behind me and follows me around like a heavy cloud.
Being a photographer is kind of a metaphor for that. Obviously you’re there, but you’re not seen because you’re just outside of what is visible. The frame of life doesn't include you. You exist in the blind spot. There, but not. I don't know any better way to describe it.
What if, on a deeply subconscious level, I photograph not for the sake of showing what I see, but to prove that I’m present, even if only implicitly? A shadow implies the presence of an object, giving at least a hint of existence.
I photograph, therefore I am?