Yesterday I found myself scouring antique stores for old vintage postcards as part of my research for an upcoming project. I bought a few good examples, but I kept getting distracted by the old black and white photographs buried in decaying photo albums. I could feel a new collection being born. I was not drawn to the pristine, mint condition photos with proper exposure and lighting, but rather to the amateur, folk photography; imperfect and out of focus, ambiguous images that seem taken almost by accident. The decay of the photo itself interests me as well. The more faded, wrinkled and scratched the better. I'm interested in images that are disappearing. These images have long outlasted the people and events that they portray, and yet they too are temporary; an imperfect attempt at immortality.
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