A photograph’s ability to describe the world, inviting meaning that extends beyond the frame, is an exciting possibility.  Once photographed, ordinary things—a ladder, a wheelbarrow, a chair, a basketball hoop—become partial thoughts to be completed when they cross paths with a viewer’s own lifetime of experience. 

I travelled to Liberia to take photographs depicting the work of a Canadian non-governmental organization lovingly run by two of my long-time friends and an extended family of Liberian brothers and sisters. ­Volunteering gave me the permission I thought I needed to fly halfway around the world to make pictures. Landing on unfamiliar ground, vulnerability and discomfort made space for themselves. The act of making photographs was a balm to sensory overwhelm and anxiety of the unknown. 

A photograph’s four-sided frame asks that things be left out, a limiting gesture offering meaning through simplification. Eventually, we land on an ...