The inspiration for this work began when I happened upon a diary while cleaning out my mother's things. The diary, once belonging to my maternal grandfather, had not been opened since his death. With the afterimage of his eyes still on the pages, the diary had remained closed in my mother's bedside drawer for over 30 years. I had a choice to open it and possibly have my image of this man shattered or altered or glorified. But the mystery of his life, and his death, remained stronger for me than anything that I might find on those pages. I chose to photograph the diary, rather than read it. After doing so I began to photograph other books, using objects to tell stories on the pages. These stories became possibilities of what the pages may contain or what the words underneath might say. They allowed me to explore the endless combinations of letters, which may or may not exist, on those pages that hold more mystery than words.

From there I began photographing the spines of books, arranged to function as a timeline when read from left to right. In this series, the books become the basis for visual narratives that explore how we record our lives and personal histories. Everything from the shelf to the bookends to the wallpaper lends to the stories that the books are telling. In these reconstructed versions of timelines, I show the defining moments and leave the rest to be questioned by the viewer. The spines of the books give suggestions, but the full story lies on the pages in between - the unseen. I feel the unknown is what strengthens the work, by allowing the viewer to fill in the blanks and let their personal narratives intertwine with the stories on the wall.