January 2006. Room 45. 3:30 A.M. I was eighteen years old, alone in a run down hotel room with a man I barely knew. While fastened against the wall listening to the shutter click and the film wind, I fell in love, highly aware of his gaze behind the lens.
It was then I took notice of the intimate space between the photographer and his subject. For years I served as the muse to many; I entered room after room, disrobing, letting these artists, men and women, look at me, project onto me – see through me. All this time these artists observed me; yet I too observed them, and their craft, ever so diligently.
I have always been haunted by these memories, these rooms, thinking of the intense intimate connections isolated through the entrance and exit of these spaces and how these experiences mirrored my own unstable image of my identity and sexuality. In creating an intimate portrait in the context of a private room, there is something unsettling, unnerving – a moment of truth between the observer and the observed that so often is lost. The space between the artist and the room, the artist and the subject, the artist and his lens, speaks.
In Rooms began in the winter of 2011 as a visual diary. These walls speak and tell of secrets of the unseen — listen.
Thank you, I’m located in Brooklyn, NY.