My father had been sick on and off since I was a child. In late 2009 he was diagnosed with throat cancer.
The process of photographing him when he was sick meant that I could take something familiar into a situation that was foreign and very scary. My camera was an extension of my denial in some ways, but it also shielded me from the reality of what was going on in front of me. Worrying about camera shake was a lot better than worrying about how my fragile Dad was going to make it through another anesthetic. So often as a photographer we are concerned with how our subject is feeling. We try to make them feel comfortable but are mindful of not overstepping the mark. By photographing something so intimate, I became almost like a subject. There were times I could not photograph, not because it would upset my father, but rather because it would upset me. That is why I avoided photographing this as a true photo essay, rather I focused on portraits- this series is very much about my father not cancer. This series is my photographic therapy. My father passed away from complications of lung cancer May 11th 2010. He was 64 years old.