As someone who is obsessed with breaking through the barriers that we all throw up around our secret selves, I am constantly trying to find the chink that lets me through the armor. I like taking pictures of people in their beds. In our beds we are more vulnerable and more exposed than out in the real world. Beds are like cocoons. They are the places where we make love, where we surrender to the night and to the unconscious, where we dream. Our beds are private places where we feel safe, are less-guarded, where we can let ourselves go.

If you have ever slept on the street or in a place where you were in peril, then you know difference. I knew a hobo who slept out in the reeds by the tracks and hung tin cans everywhere so that anyone approaching would be heard.

I once had a photo studio whose only piece of furniture was a bed. I figured there was no reason to clutter the place with unnecessary things.