For my lens-based series, The Red Stop Sign, I venture out into foul weather to capture sublime moments we have been conditioned to avoid.
After receiving my MFA, I took ill. I went from in-patient to out, then in again. IVs bruised my arms. My hair fell out. I learned to love hats. Five years ago, I received the good news: the disease was no longer detectable. My dread stayed; the menace might be hiding inside me. I feared wet weather might make me sick. I rarely left my apartment on raw days; I was a survivor playing dead.
I asked my aunt how to cope with the cold. She lives in Maine; I expected her to recommend an LL Bean item designed to keep out the deepest freeze or the heaviest rain. Instead, she said: "Go out and shoot. Make it pretty." Dubious, I ventured into a winter nor'easter—my mission: to find beauty in foul weather.
It worked. My viewfinder became a wardrobe and I became Lucy stepping into Narnia. My wonted neighborhood turned into a wonderland. As the rain turned to snow and the snow grew harder, colors changed. Some became more muted. Others popped against the white background. A stop sign transformed into a fantastic shade of red. My project, The Red Stop Sign, began with that transformation. Like a magic door, The Red Stop Sign is a portal to downpours, torrents, blizzards, and squalls.
