Prints * roll over the titles below to view the images... | 1996-1998 | 1999-2005 | 2006-2010

Children Should Be Seen and Not Heard: “Children should be seen and not heard.” This is a phrase that my sisters and I heard endlessly growing up. It didn’t matter if we were out in public or attending one of many family gatherings, this phrase was reiterated every time. As good children we were expected to put on a smile and behave. Any interruptions or embarrassing behavior would not be tolerated.

Gonna Cry: I was told that as a child a scowl would cause me to break out in tears. This aspect of my personality was exploited well into my teens. I eventually learned that crying only fueled further torment and took away any sense of my power that I might have had.

My mother’s image is used in conjunction with my son, because of her fear of water. The water surrounds her as she struggles to contain and ultimately control the situation with my less than cooperative son, Harper. The roles of each person is a reflection of strong will and fierce independence. As a new parent this memory stands out and urges me to pave a supportive and nurturing environment for my son.

Gypsy: As far back as I can remember we were always told to leave our shoes on at my Grandma/pa Rinehart’s house. It didn’t matter how sweaty our feet were from the paten leather dress shoes, we were not to take off our shoes in their house. Neither of my grandparents were very good house keepers, with one television stacked on top of another console, stacks of bills next to the couch from the past fifteen years, and piles of styrofoam meat trays that filled the attic. To top it off they had a German Shepherd named, Gypsy.

This poor dog received little to no exercise and had the calluses on her elbows to prove it. What I recall of Gypsy was how I wanted to play with her and give her affection. With scolding glances from my parents, I knew all too well that I was not supposed to get the dog riled up, because this would encourage the dog to stir up even more hair on the already saturated floor.As far back as I can remember we were always told to leave our shoes on at my Grandma/pa Rinehart’s house. It didn’t matter how sweaty our feet were from the paten leather dress shoes, we were not to take off our shoes in their house. Neither of my grandparents were very good house keepers, with one television stacked on top of another console, stacks of bills next to the couch from the past fifteen years, and piles of styrofoam meat trays that filled the attic. To top it off they had a German Shepherd named, Gypsy.

Happy Pill: At the age of 55, my father was diagnosed with bipolar manic depression. Shortly after this diagnosis, my parents divorced. Not because of the disease itself, but rather a compilation of long standing issues that were never resolved. Although the diagnosis has helped to provide some insight, it does little to help our family cope with the ever changing playful and discontent nature of his personalities. My father has always been the wild card in our family. Despite this, I know that he offers unconditional support and appreciation toward my creative and educational endeavors.

A few years ago, my father told me that the doctor said he was cured of his manic depression and will no longer require any medication.

Obsessed: Many of us obsess about various things in our lives. However, when I am presented with a new challenge, all of my extra-curricular thoughts are drawn to find a definitive answer. Something inside me must continue until a solution has been reached! I am a problem solver by nature, and devoted to finding the best possible solution to any situation. What should be a relaxing exercise, as with sudoku and crossword puzzles, becomes an obsession.

I’ve come to accept my obsessive nature and look forward to new obstacles and challenges.

Out: This image marks the half way point in my life, where I have been out of the proverbial closet just as long as I was closeted. What I know is that when I finally came out at age 19, the people in my life noticed a complete change in personality. I immediately had a better image about myself, and began to enjoy life more fully. This isn’t uncommon, but having lived a lie for so many years, I vowed that I would never lie about something so obviously important in my life.

State of Unrest: Drugs, drugs, and more drugs, without a sound nights sleep.

It’s easy to say that my son is the reason for not getting a recuperative night sleep, but the fact is my insomnia started several years before his arrival.

The repercussions of not getting a good night of rest for the past three and a half years, has created a feeling of disconnectedness. My mind can go onto “autopilot.” The best analogy that I’ve come up with is when you consume too much alcohol and everything feels a little fuzzy. This sensation inhabits my body like a virus. After many doctors’ visits, diet change, exercise, drug prescriptions, and even counseling, I have noticed some improvement.

Thanks Again Big J.: My father is particularly skilled at red herring tactics and has made it his life’s goal to share an interesting story rather than tell the truth. With this in mind, the one thing that I’ve learned over the years is not to go car shopping with my father. “Buy it now and ask questions later,” is his motto. If I didn’t know any better, he was getting a commission from the sale of the car.

At first all seems great with the car, but upon further inspection and roughly 3,000 miles later, the car turns out to be a huge lemon with multiple car repairs unfortunately no longer covered under warranty. A more experienced or mechanical savvy individual might see the inherent flaws. However, when you have one day to purchase the car with his assistance (that’s all his patience allows), you get what you get. So it is with great pleasure that I say, “Thanks Again Big J.”

I love my father but no longer ask for his assistance on any major purchases.

3 Little Pests: As children, my parents scurried about on Saturday evenings to make sure that all three of us kids were fed, bathed, and upstairs so that they could have a peaceful evening alone. This weekly event was referred to as a “Saturday Night Din Din.” We ate our frozen dinners and were sent upstairs with a Milky Way candy bar or some Cracker Jack. My parents huddled around a coffee table on the family room floor filled with goodies and drinks. While they attempted to spark up their marriage, we sat upstairs consuming our treats while watching episodes of Fantasy Island and Love Boat.

Zornik: In my single days, relationships rarely came my way. One thing that I remember to this day was a comment made by my father about dating. He stated how all of his children were desperate and would take anyone that showed them any attention. This was not the supportive commentary that I was looking for at the time, but it did make me question my motives and ultimately, what I was and was not willing to put up with in a partnership.

Prior to meeting my partner, I had a six-month relationship with a neuro-biology student at Columbia University who focused on the brainwave patterns of African frogs. His quiet and melancholy demeanor stemmed from his depression, alcohol consumption, and emotional struggles with his Lithuanian family.

This relationship ended one evening when he came to my door to “talk.” I knew something was wrong when he showed up with a turtleneck during a warm September evening. He rolled the cloth down from around his neck to reveal a hickie. He had cheated with a friend after a night of drinking too much wine.

Being a glutton for punishment, I agreed to go out for a beer a few days later. After buying him a pint at a small speak-easy in the city and playing multiple rounds of pool, he exclaimed that he wanted to break up. I was obviously disappointed and disgusted that he beat me in ending the relationship. A few minutes later he asked if I was interested in another game of billiards. With a shocked look on my face, I declined and quietly went home.

A week later, he emailed to further explain his motives and wanted to meet up. My response was, “You want to get together so we can break up again?” He replied, “Yes, I guess so.” I said, “I have better things to do with my day.” We never spoke again.