My pursuit of the unwanted and forgotten began when I could no longer ignore the astounding array of discarded things I came across in my neighborhood nearly every day. I was amazed to find so many poignant and telling objects along the street amidst a seemingly endless stream of cast-off appliances, furniture, clothing and toys.
I soon started to carry a small camera wherever I went so I could photograph any potential find that caught my eye. It was not long before I sensed the underlying and more personal meanings of this fascination, and an attraction first left to chance quickly became the object of obsession. A three-year treasure hunt ensued, marked by daily forays throughout my neighborhood in search of what others no longer wanted.
Our relationship to these discarded objects mirrors our relationship to each other. That there are people who themselves have been left behind, in one way or another, is sadly clear. Early on I realized it would be important to consider these people in the context of this project, particularly the homeless, who are often the most visible and yet least seen among us.
It was difficult to photograph people who were so vulnerable, and who likely wouldn’t want their circumstances to be made any more public than they already were. I resolved to include them in such a way that their identity would be protected: none of the people in the series appear with their face visible. Their presence in Left Behind is a reminder that each of us is vulnerable to isolation: to becoming separate, alienated, even abandoned.
The more time I devoted to this work the more complex my aspirations became. I first envisioned the project as an installation of hundreds of machine-processed, 4 x 6 color prints: the familiar format and sheer number of the “throw-away” prints would reflect the everyday nature and vast quantity of the myriad unwanted things readily found on the street.