I saw a photograph a long while ago that struck a chord with me like few others had. I saw it that day in passing, but sadly did not have the time to investigate in further. I didn’t even know who had taken it, but that photo had managed to leave quite a mark somewhere deep in the back of my head. An image burned into my memory that among the millions of things I saw each and every day, I would not forget.

It was a photo of a girl on the floor of a kitchen, her clothes missing and and only her legs visible to me, or to the camera rather. It was strange, uneasy, simply really, and it made me feel something; something that wasn’t okay. The photo made me think of sex, but nothing erotic was taking place. I saw violence in that scene, but there were no wounds or signs of a struggle. There was a sadness, but no tears. So much was said to me with that image, and while most photographers do away with words and state their ideas using symbols and signs, this photo did even more without even the crutch of symbolism. I had only seen it for a second, but I remembered it often, and I thought of it as something that while it most definitely had a curious beauty, I also kind of wished I could make it go away. Like opening the car door of a horrible traffic accident and seeing something bloody and horrid, and how late at night before you fall asleep it pops in your brain and you shake your head and try to think of something else, something easy. But you can’t, because it’s there. It’s with you.

Fast forward to a time much more recent, when I came upon the portfolio of a certain NJ.. lo and behold I had found the photographer. I had found the guilty party, and now I bring him to you…

- Shane Bryant, Crown Dozen Magazine, 2004