The waves bob under the boat, the cold air burns the back of my throat, a chill wind is whipping through my hair. We are listening to Van Morrison, flying above the water. I call Van Morrison “boat music.” In the bow of the boat, under the front middle cushion, is the pee bucket, a purple-blue plastic Rubbermaid tote. When it becomes dark or is too cold out we squat over it so we don’t have to get in the water. Afterward, I hear the ever-slight splash of the pee bucket emptying. Vulgar physicality. Ideal world.
Inside the viewfinder of my camera I am always trying to conjoin the real with the ideal: make them merge into something understandable, something controllable, to show something in a new light. Only where fact crosses into fiction can I make sense of what I experience, where I live, and what I see. By framing the everyday in a way that reveals beauty I entertain the notion of an idealized world. One must find pleasure in the mundane.