When I was a little girl, I used to sneak into a box of forbidden old family photographs underneath the stairs in the basement. I'd sit for hours looking at the images captured in moments of time that held the answers to a history of secret keeping and shame. The images were off-limits because they represented a collection of shattered dreams, regrets, and upsets. I didn't know it then, but what I knew intuitively was that photographs held a special power to reveal more than what was on the surface, to reveal a deeper truth.
I've always been drawn to the camera as a tool for self expression and especially for the documentation of new life phases: college, getting married, becoming a mother, watching my children grow. In 2008, I stumbled across an idea with a friend that it might also be used for something deeper.
At some point along the way I noticed that I'd stopped showing up in pictures. I'd never stopped documenting the life around me, but I'd stopped enjoying what I looked like, and often shied away from having my photo taken. It dawned on me that my mother had done the same thing, and as I looked around, I realized that women everywhere were missing from photos. Was it a symbol of some bigger omission? My curiosity gave way to an experiment, which became a project.
The Revelation Project was born.