When I began to make photographs outside, in what would become the ongoing body of work “Encounters,” I also started to photograph my family, mostly in the intimacy of familiar spaces. 

My mother and stepfather, newly retired and trying to adjust to their new roles as constant companions. My granddad, having to contend with the onset of senility and the ever-growing dependence on others for his needs. My brother, too, and his young family; his in-laws and their families. I’ve drawn closer to them all, and in the process, to my cultural heritage.

Observing up-close the quiet, ordinary and intimate moments, where not much happens, and later, seismic shifts and ruptures, like the loss of my father and a year later, my grandfather. The third decade into a first-generation Belarusian American life, our roles and subsequent relationships to each other, and to ourselves, continue to evolve.

My brother
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