Our story begins with my talisman, a photograph
taken in nineteen fifty-six of a young boy in Thibodaux.
The small print came from Bayous, through Mardi gras, to pines,
along rivers, and finally to the sea and then to me. I buried this photo
in the middle of a valley, a resting place before the climb. this is my headstone
to leave offerings to the boy, my father who passed away eleven
years ago. when i think of the object in the dirt at the base of a tree,
i think of the owls, the bones, scraps and hair. laid out summoning
a new creature. storms and stars,
and the silver road leading to
an empty home. I return often to leave
things behind and take some too. i have tried and failed to put words
to the feeling of being
in the valley:
dreaming of it, remembering it, being there.
this series is that.
35mm from San Luis Valley, Colorado.
C-prints available/ Zine soon