My initial obsession to document my daughter Appaloosa’s childhood is linked directly to the lack of imagery captured of me in my own. I have no memory of my parents ever taking a photo of me. When I found one of the few that did exist, it made me know that I existed too, it gave me confidence -- it validated me. It also made me anxious; I was left to wonder why there was so little effort made to record me.

Primarily, my project is a running record of a daughter growing up.

I want to capture her moments of imagination, boredom and feminine providence as they unfold so she never feels unseen, like I did as a child. It’s shot with the intimacy being a single parent allows, and with the urgency of middle age, since my relationship with mortality, the passage of time and the inevitability of loss is more pronounced.

As this project grows a larger question of visibility has emerged. My daughter is mixed race, and her childhood unfurls in the confined spaces that urban living demands. Because childhood reverie still remains most often expressed as grounded in nature, sun-kissed, barefooted and blonde, I wonder how her confidence, and sense of validation in the world is affected when her narrative is so likely to go unseen.

This project is ongoing.

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