Domestic 3 began with an attempt to mimic cubism in the medium of photography. It questioned whether you could take a collection of photos of the same subject from different angles and distances, and still put them together to make an attractive and cohesive whole. The process of putting together my quasi-grids (given that, often, my photos take up non-equal and non-square spaces, can it really be called a grid?) developed over time, but it began with pulling a photo of something close by, something that could easily be broken into segments with which to change the angle. Like my book-case. As time went on I grew a bit bolder, a bit more comfortable with my process and stopped choosing rigid scenes, stopped worrying about sticking to rectangular picture frames, and I began to think less about the process of photographing and more about my subject. I noticed a pattern. Most of my scenes were about what was near-by, about the day to day, about the average and the ordinary, but more specifically about the domestic. They weren't about the beauty of the out-doors, or the vivacity of the public sphere, or challenging onself, or anything particularly grand; no, I gravitated to the comfortable, the routine, and the little, quite pleasures tied to the home. I'm a home-body, and that fact crept its way into my work. This subject would seem to clash with a dymanimc movement such as cubism, which was all about rejecting artistic tradition. How does the domesticated life fit with a radical art movement? When I put together my compilations, I found myself excited to pick out favorite details, despite (or maybe because of) how mundane my subjects could be. Sites I saw everyday became fascinating pieces of art. There was a sort of vindication in turning what society deems as boring or dull into something so strange and unique. So to all the introverts and the home-bodies who still see their worlds as interesting, beautiful, and complex places: this one's to you.