'The room is full of a particular silence that prevails in hotels, a tended silence, utterly unnatural, layered over a subterranean of creaks and gurgles, of wheels on carpet.'
-Michael Cunningham, The Hours
At first, staying in hotels alone felt lonely. Eventually, it became an escape, a welcome period of solitude without any of the distractions and demands of daily life.
I started making these photos inspired by a character in a favorite novel, as my interpretation of the story, and it evolved into work about my own memories and identity.
The anonymity I found in each hotel stay afforded me time. Each instance of swiping the key card, a green light flashing 'enter', I crossed a threshold of possibility.
The androgyny of a hotel room and its contents created a perfect back drop to examine, rediscover, and reclaim.