(2004)
Forgotten lives, Philadelphia
Resting in pieces 
Daughter of Francis and Anne Spooky hallway, Coudersport, Pa.
No room service The Hotel Crittenden is haunted, according to two of its employees. The day bartender/front-of-house manager/waitress/desk clerk (it’s a modest operation), when prompted on the subject, spoke of the Lady in the Blue Dress. But where the hem of the dress ended, so did the lady. A kitchen worker, asked for confirmation, had not seen the legless lady, but he did say that “all kinds of shit” happens there. A tour of the establishment led to this passageway, and damned if there wasn’t some weird vibe in it. (2019)
Afternoon stroll, New York
(1995)
Girls of summer, Philadelphia
(1988)
Since 1900 in Malvern, Pa.
Winter sun is tricky. I used to live in this little town back when I was 17. I was an apprentice at a nearby theater company, building sets, hanging stage lights, and growing up. There used to be industry here, and the fabled Main Line rumbles through on tracks not far outside the frame. It was almost entirely asleep when I lived there. It has since awoken with chic little stores for those in quilted barn jackets and Range Rovers who amble up and down King Street and return to little jewels like this. (2018)
Searching, Nantes, France
(2017)
Heron Crest Studios, Aston, Pa.
Trout to the left This blog was resurrected in part because of the yearlong project that involved scanning and cataloguing every photo I ever took. (It was supposed to be a three-month project, but, yeah.) It was all done here in Aston, Pa., down the road from where I used to live, at an artists’ studio complex. My neighbors in the converted mill were real artists. I am not.
A year in this light. So, I spent my weekends in this room, from cold to heat to cold, from football to baseball, reliving my life. This was taken on the day I left. (2017)
Beachhead, Bretagne, France
(2017)
Refuge, Aston, Pa.
After a breakup, I rented an old stone house on a hill, at the top of a long driveway removed from the road, where no one could find me. (2005)
Ancestors, Orleans, Mass.
Betty and Reginald, my mother’s parents. Reginald was an insurance man from Baltimore who made his career at INA in Philadelphia. Betty, born near Richmond, Va., raised my mother. Betty is wearing a wig. Reg’s cardigan is now mine. I learned unconditional love from them. (1988)
