During the COVID-19 pandemic, I gave myself the practice of daily walks to deter a depressive episode from being locked indoors.  I take a photograph on my daily walks, and upon return, I print them out and wash them between my hands.  I’m fascinated by the choices I’m up against: do I share photographs that are reflective of the devastating nature of the pandemic, or do I combat this trying time with uplifting photographs of nature coming back to life? In the middle of this quandary, I find myself even more drawn to the back of the prints.  What would be considered a blank canvas is now filled with an index of the time: the color of the light from my window denoting the weather of the day, the reflection of the color of my clothes on the white surface of the paper, the water droplets from washing… depending on the weather, the water will sink into the print more on some days than others. The tension from my hand washing shows the tension in my body, some days it is looser than others.  While the front side of these photographs are the momentum to get myself out of the house, the backs of them shows an indexical imprint of the time I’ve spent with this project, the residue of my experience of falling back in love with my medium, when it is all I’m allowed to touch.

March 19


March 20


March 21


March 22


March 23


March 24


March 25


March 26th


March 27th


March 28th


March 29th


March 30th


March 31st


April 1


April 2


April 3


April 4th


April 5th