Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.35.44 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.36.00 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.36.15 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.36.26 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.36.37 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.36.56 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.37.06 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.37.17 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.37.30 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.37.42 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.37.51 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.37.59 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.38.09 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.38.18 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.38.26 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.38.38 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.38.55 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.39.05 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.39.26 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.39.38 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.39.48 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.40.00 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.40.11 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.40.20 PM.png

Screen Shot 2022-02-22 at 1.40.29 PM.png

Vacationland, 2016

44 pages, 8.5” x 11”

It took getting behind the wheel of my mother’s silver Corolla and driving twenty hours northeast to Maine - alone - for me to be far enough away from home to begin making honest work about it. At home I am romanticized by nostalgia, distracted by life. Away from the cornfields of Northwestern Ohio, I found symbols, stand-ins for my memories that were more truthful than the places in which they actually occurred.

Vacationland began in Maine, but has extended into something much larger. It is a book of poetry and of black and white photographs that expose the truths of growing up– revealing an adolescent, somewhat innocent, ascent into adulthood.