In one way or another, much of my oeuvre examines boundaries. Boundaries, edges meant to keep things in or out. Permeable boundaries. And the question remains, where is it ok to cross those boundaries?

Several months ago when I was asked to participate in this exhibit, I bought a tiny camera that clips on to my clothing and takes a photo every thirty seconds. The idea was voyeuristic. I planned to wear it into meetings and doctor appointments and people’s homes - to share what wasn’t “supposed” to be shared.

From my first photo infusion into the cloud I realized I was essentially spying on myself. Instead of a spy mission, this became a more of a confessional.

Boundaries imply access and access implies privilege, which in our culture has usually been male - but not always.

I live in the vessel of a female body and so the gaze, the peripheral vision that’s on display here is one that is feminine: of kitchen sinks; of chauffeuring children-hands behind the steering wheel; of doctors visits, dance classes, and girls’ empowerment seminars. Who is subject to the intrusive stare?  Who does the intruding with their gaze?

To take a photo of something is to mark that occasion, person, or space and time as precious in some way. But these photos made the special – ordinary. The people in the images were made unimportant. They were stand-ins for all people doing what people do in normal daily activity. These private images became mundane. It took the personal and made it irrelevant.

How the images are displayed also reflect a boundary. A dotted boundary line you might find on a map to delineate territory, or the boundary line that reflects the edges of our fields of vision - and the boundlessness of our thoughts in the confines of our minds eye.

The images I was recording were not the things I was looking at. Instead they were the things in my peripheral vision. In the process, I discovered some things about how I use my time. Fully one third of the images are of my hand on the steering wheel of my car. This realization can lead to life changes.

But these images are an illusion because I have not provided complete and unfettered access. I chose when I wore the Narrative Clip and when I did not. For example: the time I sat with my friend whose father was sipping at his last breaths in the physical world (not wear). I also chose what images exclude. It would be a very different show to exhibit the thousands of images of what the Narrative Clip captured from the driver seat of my car.

I choose to share images that make me wonder about the rest of the story. And I include images on our periphery; things we know are there but seldom consciously observe. Instead we stare past them when we’re deep in thought.

The surprising beauty of many of the images entranced me. Blurred, distorted shots from under tables. Shots of ceilings, of molding, of edges - of the things that are there all the time and we see without seeing.

In an effort to take what has become mundane and revalidate them, I am offering these photos to you at $1 each. Or a strip of images for $8. Take them off these walls, put them on your own, and make them precious again.

In reviewing this work I am so grateful to have what’s been in my blurred periphery brought into conscious focus.