Going home has always meant some format of camera comes along for the ride to the Mesabi Iron Range, but everything seemed to take on a deeper meaning in the last years of my grandfather’s life.  I truly saw the beginning of his demise in 2005, and I began frequenting “The Range” on an intensified basis until his funeral in December of 2006. The two years leading to his passing was a crossroads in my life, with the largest being the reality of no longer being able to go “home” in the process. Childhood homes were sold; skating rinks were razed.  Stores where I discovered my passions for music were but a shell of the places I remembered. Many people who I loved were gone or fading further from view. In a community where everything seemed to remain the same, I suddenly felt no matter where I turned, all I could see was change and disappearance around me.  My camera served as a way of accepting this inevitability, and somehow, it has made each return home more welcoming.  This is a simple ongoing collection of the people and places that shaped my very foundation. With every return, I continue to keep finding pi­eces of this living puzzle, frame by frame.

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