None Of Us Are Without Bias

Present Day //
Detail of Ben Quilty’s ‘Self-portrait after Afghanistan’, 2012. Captured at his recent exhibition at the Art Gallery of New South Wales.

Locating yourself as a researcher is an important component of academic work. It’s a rather fascinating component at that, as its necessity reflects the fact that none of us are without bias or blindspots. The best we can do, then, is to acknowledge them.

As I near the end of the PhD, I’ve taken this locating of myself a few steps further than required – all the way back to birth, in fact. As an Appalachian American, I’ve seen plenty of people’s needs go unidentified and unmet. Perhaps this is what drew me to human-centred design as a topic of research. Certainly the work ethic I learned growing up in West Virginia is what has kept me going. It won’t appear in any of my journal articles, so this note will have to serve as my acknowledgement.

I’ve Disguised The Scale

December 2019 //
Street art in the Christchurch CBD. I’ve disguised the scale by cropping close – this takes up the entire side of a multi-level building.

Fulfilment Of A Longtime Wish

June 2019 //
Straight out of camera: a beautiful sunset that prompted me to pull my car to the side of the road as I drove from Zion National Park to St. George, Utah. I didn’t know it at the time, but there was a frosty Lagunitas IPA in my immediate future – the perfect cap to a day that had included fulfilment of a longtime wish: to do the Angels Landing trail.

Bass Player In A Grunge Band By Night

September 2018 //
Not everybody in Seattle is an accountant by day and the bass player in a grunge band by night, but that’s certainly everybody’s aesthetic.

I’m into it.

A Process With No End

December 2019 //
Photography activates my anxiety in a very specific way. I love learning; am an advocate of always trying to improve oneself. Learning my camera and developing my photographic skill is a process with no end – a notion that is simultaneously exciting and overwhelming. When, for instance, I find myself faced with a scene such as the one I encountered as I drove toward Mount Cook, I worry that my skill is not up to the task – that I may never see this vista again and I won’t adequately capture it; that the opportunity will slip through my fingers.

But you know what? Whether the photo is good or bad never seems to matter in the end, because the task of composing the photo becomes embedded in the memory of which the photo becomes a record. In that way the photo always ends up being good enough for me, and that’s kind of what it’s all about.