I am frequently frustrated by the prevailing myth of photography as a form of truth. My imagery consists of lies and fictions, sometimes depicting the misconceptions we develop about relationships, and other times crafting works that are wholly fiction for the sake of fiction. Perhaps it can be said that there are subtler truths to be found in the sweet desolation of children's playgrounds at night, and maybe I successfully connect to something universal in those soft, sensual nudes which depict women in ways we're taught not to look for. At a minimum, my photography usually revels in the masks we wear, and so the only truth you can find in my images are the kind heard when we shout our lies from bell towers and roof tops.
