The portraits of my mother are not only following the tradition of family documentary style work like the greats of Larry Sultan etc, but it embodies the most magical power of all : photography. The ability to observe, relate to, freeze, hold onto. These pictures, to me, represent the spirit of what I love about photography and the power I know it can hold. Both in the photographing process and in the reflection after the moment has passed, I find myself in negotiations between not only photographer and subject but between daughter and mother too. These pictures allow me to see myself in her, obviously. And my self portraits I see her in me. Watching her change. Considering my role in seeing her. Criticism. Celebration. Focus. Denial. This is the potential, for me, of photography. I catch myself: I am critical, tender, relentless, precious. Challenge myself to accept, digest, reconcile with my way of seeing them and seeing myself. Honor their autonomy and integrity and expression. The delicate choices made while photographing and while making the selection, reviewing the images, considering my way of seeing them and what constitutes a final image that I feel embodies them. Honors them. Expresses something deep within me, that I feel when looking at them. It isn’t always love, it isn’t always harmony or admiration. Recognize patterns in what I’m drawn to, what i’m drawing out in them. What I’m highlighting and choosing to focus on, memorialize, take time with.