These photographs are part of a series called the Red Chair – something I’ve been working on for a while and been thinking about for even longer – how to create a deeper connection between a photograph and the viewer.

The most difficult things to convey in a photograph are almost always scale and intimacy.

Scale is difficult because a two-dimensional representation of a three-dimensional world can fall short in portraying the scale of the scene and more importantly, how big the scene is in relation to a human being.

Intimacy is especially difficult with landscapes because while the scene may be beautiful or captivating, there’s often nothing in the photograph that the viewer can intimately connect with.

Using a simple object, a chair – something we all use – I’m attempting to create that depth of connection that may otherwise not be there. The series is both a portrait and self-portrait, my endeavor to connect myself and others to the places in the world that I feel a connection to. Every photograph tells a story. The red chair is my way of making the story more approachable.

The history of the chair is one of loss and reclamation. It’s a chair that was in my room as a young boy and only came back into my possession decades later after being feared lost in Hurricane Katrina. It sat in five inches of floodwaters for nearly two weeks but because the chair is made of cypress wood, it was able to survive.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy the series.