Analog photography and motherhood have taught me how to wait, and the square format photographs in this series attempt to explore this simple yet resonant verb.  Waiting implies a state of being that exists in between seemingly more meaningful actions.  It implies a measure of passivity, a dearth of physical effort.  However, the lack of exertion while waiting does not preclude the possibility of sophisticated thought, and this internal experience informs the photographs in the series wait.

Waiting in the halted car for school to end or lessons to finish, I use the driver’s seat as a point of reference to photograph other people waiting.  Sometimes these people seem to wait for the same reasons I do, and sometimes they wait for the bus.  The use of public transportation to navigate the urban environment necessitates waiting that may seem unendurably long, and my photographing this phenomenon establishes an uncomfortable hierarchy.  I wait at a red light in the air conditioned car I own, and they wait, standing or sitting in plain view, vulnerable to the elements and to my gaze, obliged to follow another’s schedule.

Composed of momentary glimpses at the people, walls, and windows that populate streets, sidewalks, and freeway underpasses, the photographs reify mostly unexceptional and overlooked visual fields.  The detachment and anonymity of the people in the photographs make the images more evocative than descriptive.  Their insistent geometry acknowledges the aching repetition of the daily commute.