Cara Taylor

We all search to find a place in the great, wide somewhere, and make it our home; deciding that the dirt between our toes and trees over our heads belong to us. We let our lives embellish that place, filling it floor to ceiling with our essentials, knickknacks, and memories.

For my family, the place that we have sunk our feet into is in a small town, a place where the floors are scratched and worn, the walls are peppered with fingerprints, and the scent of musk from the woods outside is heavy in the air. This place functions as the backdrop for my work.

I began this body of work by making photographs of my own family, our home, and the evidence of us, as a study of our lives. I used my camera as if I were photographing an undiscovered culture, studying details to learn all I could about the people there. I used my photographs to illustrate how we got through the days, what each of us loved or found important, and how these things were shown.

I realized as I was photographing that yes, the photographs depict the way we live and our unique way of giving method to our mess, but even more so the way we find it possible to survive. The photographs show what small things we find joy and comfort in, and what gives us the courage to push on. They show the ways in which we organize our world to understand it, and therefore deal with it. Through making this series of photographs, it became clear that despite our specificity in location, my family and our home simply act as blank characters in which the audience can find patterns or habits of themselves.

These photographs not only illustrate the evidence of life, but through the process of photography, they grant it importance and value. There is glory brought to these undoubtedly ordinary and mundane scenes once the four walls of the frame are placed around them, and the large prints lend their voice and declare these happenings important, when generally they would occur unnoticed. These photographs are the ways we, as humans, get by.