I am drawn toward what has been left behind, abandoned, discarded. The absurd. The forgotten. The lost places, objects and memories that manage to sustain life despite their own deprivation. I am moved by the beauty in these places/objects that are silent, aimless, forgotten. The life that is trembling just under the surface of stoic exteriors implies memories of vibrant, colorful times, and the possibility that more are just around the corner.

Somewhere in these images I recognize nature’s process of reclaiming it’s ground. And somewhere in that process may be the reflection our own aimlessness, our own absurd mortality, and our irrelevance that lives in the shadows of our most noble aspirations.

-- Deborah Martin