I travel the country looking for the mundane, the ordinary, the quintessential American moment to record with my Polaroid camera. Why? I'm still not quite sure. I'm conflicted whether I'm recording moments in American life or just moments in my life. Or maybe they're both, I don't know. The same way I collect postcards, paper placemats, and brochures, I collect polaroids of everyday things that I generally find alongside some road in the middle of nowhere. I realize it's a compulsion. It's a bizarre need that I feel to collect and preserve what would ordinarily be quickly forgotten.

I search out these moments, usually near abandoned and overgrown places, or industrial / commercial places that are really not meant to be the focus of a photograph. Normally void of people, I prefer to analyze the evidence of humanity left behind. I think you get a more realistic portrait of life that way.

I point the camera and shoot not knowing if I have a nothing or a something. My images usually reside along the border of the two where I think the best documents tend to be found.

The Polaroid develops and I have a grainy, saturated version of a moment that will never be again. The Polaroid usually closely resembles my grainy, saturated memory of the time and will eventually replace it.

Over five years of criss-crossing the country, I've amassed quite a collection of images. Each one usually recalls at least a faint memory of an event or a feeling that occurred when the image was made. Being stranded in Roswell; broke in Oklahoma; water-logged in Idaho; inspired in Kansas. Each image was a moment in a life that I was lucky enough to record and luckier still to witness. I hope my collection never stops growing.