The common thread weaving my photographs together is a search for the hidden nature of things. The land is full of memory, just as people and buildings, and places are always secretly holding thoughts from another time, just below the surface. This subtle refraction of the familiar is what my photographs try to imitate. This hiddenness implies an absence of distinction, one thing always fading into everything else, into everything it is not. I’m always drawn to the places which lead me to wonder what was there before, places which suggest something that is not always apparent unless you slow down and really communicate with the land. The photographs I use for shows are framed by wood from the Barn in Brookhaven, which burned down in January of 2010. For 100 years, the barn was overflowing with an amazing creative spirit. It had an old, intriguing essence, but was always open to new adventures and creations. Being inside felt like another time and place, free from the things which stifle spontaneity, revelry and creative inspiration. Now just a field again, the hidden spirit of the barn has gone adrift- intangible, diaphanous, impalpable- weaving through the landscape, given life through the fullness of its resonance.