In January I returned to Chennai. For those of you who have been following along for a while, we lived there from 2013-2015 and it became, amidst the ins and outs and ups and downs of living life in India, unequivocally our home. My children attended school there and my husband worked. I spent days, nights and weekends, photographing the city. We lived, really lived, all the good and the bad parts, two precious years of our lives in that city. I created a collection of photographs that I continue to sort through and compile into a something more tangible, a form they deserve and I hope to be able to share more with you someday soon, but life races on and Jordan (and my family) calls for my attention.
Part of my return this past January would include documentary photography work for Priyam Global, who I’d worked with during my time in India and to spend time with its founder, Michaela Cisney, who has since become a very dear friend.
I wondered if I could ever go back. Would it ever be the same? Would the warm, soft edges that padded all the memories in the corners of my mind remain? Isn’t this how we always feel about going home anywhere it may be? Usually its fear that keeps us away, but on this trip I packed up all my fears, as heavy in my bag as my stack of cameras and film, and returned home, alone and found it exactly as I remembered it.