Personal Projects

A few years ago I was reorganizing a closet and discovered cardboard boxes tucked into a dark corner. Much to my surprise, I found dress boxes and shoeboxes filled with photographs from the 1940s and early ’50s. I had forgotten that when my father died I inherited his personal photographs. That afternoon and long into the night, I sat on the hallway floor looking at the pictures and reliving some of those moments. It was like discovering buried treasure, a forgotten family heirloom.

Some photographers call it a personal project; others, a self-assignment. I haven’t spent a lot of time thinking about whether there’s a difference, and if there is, what it might be. Besides, I have my own mash-up of it: the personal assignment.

There are stories we tell to explain ourselves, to clarify who we are, and to account for why we are who we are. And no matter what the apparent subject of these stories, what they are always really about is the past. “The past is never dead,” William Faulkner said. “It’s not even past.”

Last year, I decided to take on a challenge focusing on the unique natural beauty associated with wildfires in a Florida scrub ecosystem, one of the most rare ecosystems in the state. Florida is no stranger to wildfires. Nationwide, Florida has the second highest number of wildfires annually. In 2011, it was estimated that 300,000 acres of land was burned due to over 4800 wildfires. My project was centered at Indrio Savannahs Preserve, where a 120-acre wildfire was ignited by lightning in March of 2013.

It all started with a conversation at a family holiday with my aunt and uncle about doing a summer hiking trip in Yosemite to stay at the High Sierra Camps. These camps are supported by daily mule trains that haul in supplies, including delicious meals and luggage, thus allowing visitors to carry a light daypack while getting to enjoy the experience of a backcountry trip.

I probably take more pictures of people working than any other subject. Since I am a commercial photographer this makes a lot of sense. I love taking shots of people actually working; they provide wonderful opportunities to see people involved in something they take seriously. You can often get shots where people really aren’t paying attention to you, just doing what they do. Work shots...