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  • It rained today and after the rain came the eeriest fog that settled over the back lawn and around Marshfield Middle School. I spotted it by chance and thought at first that the sprinklers were on back over the field and how odd [1] that they would water the lawn after a rainstorm and [2] why had I not seen them go on before? I rushed to put on my sweater and boots, grabbed my camera, stormed down the staircase, and through the kitchen out the back door. I ran towards the fog and kept taking pictures as the sun set over the middle school’s observatory.

    It was beautiful, sublime, and horrifying all at once. Almost apocalyptic, claustrophobic. I felt enveloped by it and hidden within it. So I could take voyeuristic photos through the living room window of a neighbor’s home. That I could sneak back behind the football field and have the back field all to myself. The lights glared through the fog, trying their damndest to reach me. The concrete slickered and glistened. Fences kept me out and caged my view. The fog particularly liked the goal posts in the middle of the soccer field and it was there the fog last relented its grasp and eviscerated somewhere, who knows where.

    I have a strong desire to take more of these photos – to take photos as if I was thinking about directing/setting a horror film in that location. I like photographs that seem dreamlike – something beautiful yet disconcerting – uneasy. Life is uneasy. There is darkness. I want to look it in the face in a way or, wait, no, no, I don’t, but I want to at least create semblances of it through my work. Why do we enjoy being scared? Why do we intentionally watch a horror film? What happens when we are frightened? Why is there sometimes pleasure in that? Is it the heightened awareness we experience when we’ve heard something in what was supposedly an empty house? That super alive hyper-reactive all senses on 11 type situation that we wish could always be the case. Adrenaline? Can you get that little itch/tickle on the back of your neck from looking at a photograph? I wonder.

    I suppose you can enjoy the beauty in fear or eeriness from the vantage point of a photograph. You don’t have to worry about a boogieman tapping you on the shoulder for instance and there is value in that. I like using the real world to create my alternate reality – the fantastic, mysterious, fluid world of my imagination, my subconscious, my dreams, and nightmares. They come from the land of reality and I’m simply putting them back and seeing what they look like – seeing if they stir those same emotions as they did when I was fast asleep.

    [Complete photo essay here.]
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