DIRTY DISHES

No matter what I do, the clutter in my home is ever present. Nowhere is this more palpable than in the kitchen sink. Despite the dishwasher only inches away, my teenage daughter dumps all her snack remains in the sink, my small son conducts all his underwater battles there inside plastic tubs filled with soap suds and superheroes, my partner uses it as a trash receptacle. And I photograph it.

From day to day and hour to hour the composition of dishes, utensils, glassware, pots, and pans is ever-changing. So is the light – from the warmth of the morning sun to the harshness of the afternoon reflected off shiny surfaces, the softness of dusk, the glare of incandescent bulbs at night.

The seemingly endless variation of form, texture, light, color, and composition in my kitchen sink, captured on almost a daily basis, has become a journal of my family’s shared experience. These mundane objects have turned into metaphors for how we live and dine together, our celebrations marked by the “good” china and silver, a dinner on the run by the plastic containers that once held “leftovers,” the daily remains in coffee mugs of two “caffeine-o-holic” adults fragile wine goblets, sturdy frying pans, porous sieves, razor-sharp knives…meals shared, memories made, the ongoing tale of the daily routine that is family life.