The Noumenon Revelation: Blood, Relative.

My sister Cindy abhors having her photo made. So when she gives me the opportunity, I shoot as many as she'll allow me -- usually four or five at a time. This particular day, the weather was stunning -- a wind blowing the lowest tips of her hair, the early evening sun coming into her half-covered garage and lighting the right side of her face. If I were to describe it any more, you would think I was reading it out of photography manual.

She was wearing a simple housedress, the kind of housedress that's shaped exactly how I like my housedresses (down to the shape, the color, the texture, the length, the straps, etc), in one of those odd, familial coincidences. I asked her to take the straps off her shoulder; I ask this of my friends all the time, but this was a first for me and my sister! She was adorably shy and protested enough that I knew she was amenable to it. To make her more comfortable, I shot a small video of her (on Vine). I wanted her to see how to looked -- not how she saw herself, but how everyone else saw her, especially me. She loved it, even let me post it to the public. This was enough encouragement for her to let me shoot those next four or five photos.

But this is me, and even though I knew I would love those photos of her, I wondered what would happen if I rolled the film back into the camera, took the camera home and forgot what I'd shot. So this is precisely what I did. A week later, back in Houston, I had the spontaneous opportunity to shoot photos of Brittany. She was at my house to work on a photo project that, ironically, involves us shooting a third party... who was running very late. To pass the time, she jumped in my tub (which has the most incredible light possible, even better than what I refused to describe above). I squealed, ran for my camera and shot about ten photos of her before our friend arrived.

To add another layer of ambiguity, I immediately forgot what was on this roll of film. (I always say that chaos comes to those who allow it... and as much as I like to think of myself as otherwise, I'm fairly controlling, typically.) By the time I reached the end of this roll (for the second time), I decided to rewind it and reload it into a different camera another day. Two weeks later, quickly pulling an unused roll of film out of my shoulder bag, I unknowingly load this doubly-shot roll of film that includes precious photographs of my sister and randomly impromptu photos of Brittany. And what do I shoot over it? Pictures of gravel and plants and my own hand, pictures of glass buildings and neighbor's houses.