Photography. Diary. Life.

Visit my Flickr for more photos and Etsy to purchase prints.
Familial Investigations on Flickr.

"It was not meant to hurt. 
It had been made for happy remembering 
By people who were still too young 
To have learned about memory.”
- Ted Hughes, Birthday Letters, ‘A Short Film’

Familial Investigations on Flickr.

"It was not meant to hurt. 

It had been made for happy remembering 

By people who were still too young 

To have learned about memory.”

- Ted Hughes, Birthday Letters, ‘A Short Film’

Rachel Citron - 'Eckleburg, 2014'

Rachel Citron - 'Eckleburg, 2014'

Rachel Citron - 'Little Red Houses, 2014'

Rachel Citron 'Little Red Houses, 2014'

Rachel Citron - 'Siblings on a Saturday Morning, Grandma's, 1992'

Rachel Citron 'Siblings on a Saturday Morning, Grandma's, 1992'

Rachel Citron - 'My Mother on her Mother's Bed, 2014' 

Rachel Citron 'My Mother on her Mother's Bed, 2014' 

Rachel Citron - 'Flowers and Wires (Granny's House), 2014' 

Rachel Citron 'Flowers and Wires (Granny's House), 2014' 

Rachel Citron - 'Granny at Home, 2014’


"I don’t understand.  That’s what all this.  That’s what all this has been about.  A really big, deep, elaborate multimedia exploration of all the ways I, we, fail to understand.


Family.  Parents.  Memories.  Love and life and loss.  Theres comprehension, brief glimpses, shadows, and sun spots.



Late afternoon sun, slanting just so - the way I remember it at the old house.  Sharp shafts forming the perfect diagonal.  I remember filling the outline perfectly.  Lying there after the torments and adventures, the after school activities, shifting my body with the sun.  Supine and small, coiled in the living room, until someone - the nanny, the tutor, my mother - would comment I was becoming odd and wait, arms folded, until I moved.


This series is about that floor.  About the coolness and the consistently waxed hardwood.  About the people who stand there, waiting for you.

Rachel Citron - 'Granny at Home, 2014’

"I don’t understand.  That’s what all this.  That’s what all this has been about.  A really big, deep, elaborate multimedia exploration of all the ways I, we, fail to understand.
Family.  Parents.  Memories.  Love and life and loss.  Theres comprehension, brief glimpses, shadows, and sun spots.
Late afternoon sun, slanting just so - the way I remember it at the old house.  Sharp shafts forming the perfect diagonal.  I remember filling the outline perfectly.  Lying there after the torments and adventures, the after school activities, shifting my body with the sun.  Supine and small, coiled in the living room, until someone - the nanny, the tutor, my mother - would comment I was becoming odd and wait, arms folded, until I moved.
This series is about that floor.  About the coolness and the consistently waxed hardwood.  About the people who stand there, waiting for you.
Doug DuBois - 'Spencer Finds A Rake, Syracuse, NY, 2008'

Doug DuBois - 'Spencer Finds A Rake, Syracuse, NY, 2008'

Doug DuBois - 'My Sister Lise, Christmas Eve Far Hills, NJ, 1984'

Doug DuBois - 'My Sister Lise, Christmas Eve Far Hills, NJ, 1984'

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