After an almost decade-long love affair with the photobooth, it has become not only my primary creative medium but a microcosm for my inner and outer worlds, the personal and social constraints I experience daily. My work in the photobooth is an exploration of these confines. It is a simultaneous acceptance and rejection of the boundaries. The booth presents obvious limitations: only so much is possible within the space and the seconds between shots. There is a thrill in fully embracing the limitations and a charge in the effort to exceed them. This is also a public art; photo booths sit in commercial spaces, so performance and exhibition are inherently part of the process. The flimsy curtain between me and the proprietor is another boundary and the risk of exposure and exile becomes one more thrill.

The booth is a medium for creating and re-creating my sense of time and self. The self is mediated by time; the years between strips and the seconds between shots document growth, change, decay. The format of the strips invites a narrative. Over the course of a single strip, or years of strips, they tell a story and ask to be read. The strips both document and romanticize time; the subject commits to the gamble and is stuck, afterward, without a negative or digital record. Being one of a kind and irreplaceable, the strips become instant relics.