When my mother was six months pregnant with me, my father committed suicide in the desert outside of Las Vegas, Nevada. It is impossible to describe, or even know, how that tragedy has undeniably shaped me. My life has been unaffected, for better or worse, by the absence of a person to whom I am both inextricably tied but who also remains a stranger. Through my work, I conflate snapshots that candidly describe my family with staged images in which I photographically re-describe moments of my childhood, or even adorn my father’s persona as a kind of “method actor.” I photographically examine the complex dynamic of my family as well as the impact of his loss and genetic influence on my personhood. I relish in the thought of being a creator of worlds; with photography I can open windows to nostalgic memory that coincides within current reality.