"The history of this house is hear-say, passed down through the generations. I have done much research on this land and family but have not been able to authenticate the house." (Eileen R. Walters, Old Rogers House lineage document)

A layer of dust had collected on the walls of Mr. Rogers' house. Upon a closer look a faint handprint is revealed and the purity of the white wall underneath. Like an archeologist, I search for details of another time. I want to learn what life was like back then. Instead of finding something that is tangible, I find a spirit, a trace. The interiors of these abandoned structures are symbols of our own mortality. They remind us of our past and simultaneously foreshadow old age and death. The force that drives me is my fascination with the effect that time has on places. Abandoned houses lure me inside to photograph what the walls are striving to protect. The subjects of my photographs are not the walls themselves, rather the light contained by them. I let the light choose what it wants to reveal. A building, once ornate, becomes simple. White is never white due to variations, and the effects of weather and time. Filtered, diffused light endows a sacred atmosphere where everything is stripped down to its purest, essential form. The few remaining pieces of furniture and personal items embody the former occupants. If there is a connection between a house and a human soul, I am searching hard to find it.