The old cliche is that photographers live on nostalgia. We try to capture the last of something, record moments in time for posterity, and document changes as they occur. At the same time, I find myself obsessed with doorways - passages of opportunity. A door cracked open, like a budding daffodil, represents infinite potential. It is optimism that what lies ahead will be better and more exciting than what exists now. Through my travels, I have tried to capture this potential with my camera, though I remain keenly aware that each moment I document will never happen again. Photography as an experience is a place of transition. It is a false dichotomy - somewhere in the middle of grasping at the past and projecting the future. As I began engaging with 35 years of imagery, I embraced this in-between state. Each journey has come at a distinct moment in time, both globally and personally in my life. My camera has given me license to travel, freedom to enter, and reason to explore. Therefore, it is only fitting that I should title this series of monographs, Passport, as it illustrates my ultimate goal to explore the moments that are yet to happen.
Each issue of Passport will chronicle a different journey, with photographs, memories, and the context I find most relevant to the time and place. Here, I will apologize for the annoying, overly poetic language I may fall into when reflecting on these experiences. I know I have romanticized much of my history with my camera (I am an artist, after all). I know my presence has an effect on what I photograph - I'm not an invisible observer: I choose what to include in the frame and what to leave out; the people I document react to the camera, whether consciously or not. Further, I will never claim to be an expert on any of the places I visit.
I have always believed that publishing is an inherently self-serving act; the hours spent looking at my own photographs and asking others to do the same is energy turned inward that could be used to more fruitful endeavors. Yet here I am, asking you to look. I want you get lost in this history and enjoy experiencing these journeys with me. I hope you will learn about moments in time, and be inspired to find your own doorways to pass through. Who knows, you may even find you wish to renew your own passport.
A note about design. I have always loved Family of Man, the 1955 catalogue from the Edward Steichen exhibit of the same name at the Museum of Modern Art. I find bravery in the way that book was published - the refusal to treat any one image as sacred, lest any other be seen as less less so. With the controlled chaos of the spread designs and the deliberate breaking of barriers in the way the images are placed together, the book is a feast for the eyes and demands that you focus on the beauty of our human existence without regard to less important factors like geography, status, race, or circumstance. I wasn't alive for the exhibit itself, but I have to imagine Steichen being satisfied with the work of Jerry Mason and his team in the creation of a historical record that would serve it justice far into the future. My book design does not take the steps of those at MOMA or Simon and Schuster, but I have been informed by the hours I've spent pouring over the pages of that book. I haven't stacked as many images as I would have liked. I weave slightly more delicately across aesthetic and conceptual borders. However, I hope I still do it justice.
