The ocean makes frequent appearances in my dreams. When I lived near the coast I would make trips after the sun went down to the quietest beaches I could find. I would set up my view camera, open the lens and let the film record the tide pushing in and pulling away.

Meanwhile, I'd sit in the sand concentrating on the wind against my skin and the briny air. 

 

Sharing a bed is an intimate dance unique to every couple. Becoming familiar with our lover’s nocturnal behaviors is one of the most delightful ways we become entangled with one another.

Before I ever spend the night with you I know which side of the bed you'll choose. You need a soft light coming from another room, I sleep in total darkness. Your habits are reset, as are mine; we have begun writing our nocturnal behaviors.

 

When I fell in love I stopped taking my camera on night-time excursions to the shore. The salty ocean air whipping through my hair was exchanged for lustful tousling. Instead of making long exposures of expansive bodies of water, I was making long exposures of our bodies during the night.

I dreamt of the sea. 

 

‘Reaching Into the Mind for Love’ is an invitation into an ethereal love affair. Traces of light pass through a ‘normal’ lens.

The light whispers for hours to the gelatin and silver that sits recording its story at the back of the old press camera. What has been recorded is raw, unrefined and difficult at times to understand.

The photographs exist between the doorway to my dreams and the soft glow of morning light entering the window. Entwined feet and arms escape the bedsheets like swimmers emerging from beneath the ocean's rolling surface. Sometimes the figures remain very still, existing within a hazy fog. Other times their movements make them indistinguishable from a tangle of pillows and blankets. The movement in the sheets mimics ripples in the sand no longer touched by the tide. My affinity for the sea returns to my lens from within my dreams.

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