After college in upstate New York, I moved to the city and after quitting my first real job —
waitressing at the Autopub, a dimly lit place near midtown where booths where shaped like cars — I found another at MOMA. MOMA! Working in the bookstore as a clerk. I was ecstatic. Best of all, employees got a 30% discount on books.
MOMA exposed me to photography. I loved looking into different worlds, being an explorer without leaving the room. There is a mystery to photos in my view: the stories we create from them are fleeting and fragile, and we never know what — if any — portion of them is true.
I tried many times (although not hard — I am not a worker) to take photos that reflected what I saw and was consistently disappointed. I don’t have an artist’s eye: two dimensional work is beyond me. Give me a song or script, or let me write and I can make life, but not on a flat surface with colors and shadows.
I may still have no eye; however, photographic technology can now reproduce what I see. Which gets me here. Learning. And as some say, “cautiously optimistic.”