Some old views of Miami.

My dear friends came to visit me while I was pregnant last summer. I wanted to share with them some of the reasons why I moved to NW Pennsylvania, and this creek, the soft rocks, the crystal clear water, the silence and the privacy are just a couple. I love taking photographs of these beautiful girls, and their relaxation.

Tara, Sam and I took these photos one evening in Tara's studio, late 2014. It was probably humid and hot outside, no one else around, and some great lights and film. I love self timer work. It's ten seconds to strike a pose, or move, feel a feeling, express yourself, look in the lens, all of it. It's proof. A moment in time.

I love these shots. I was hanging out with Tara and Sam a lot when we took these shots, they were dating, and I was the neighbor. We had a lot of fun, talked a lot of shit, exchanged many great ideas and were catalysts for each other. Sam giggled a lot and listened to us conspire. I was reminded to be curious with Tara - she had become my muse, as she was discovering her performance, her stage name, her show.

The portraits I took of her during this time reminded me of what I was looking for in a subject, and who I was as a photographer, and as an artist.

Tara and Sam, 7111 n miami avenue, tvvinhaus, Miami, Florida 2014

an amazing, carefree fun loving summer photograph from the McCain archive dug up in 2016

Whilst archiving my grandparents photos and memorabilia, I found these slides of a trip to Florida. Mary Margaret being ever elegant and whimsical, as usual.

A brief look at Cuba

Havana, 2017

Holding a dead bat, Havana

Las Frutas

Viva la Revolucion

Frutas tambien

The Malecon

Thanks to Diaspora Vibe Cultural Arts Incubator and The WEGE Foundation.

Combing through my recently scanned archive, I found these shots from a peaceful journey to Eleuthera with a dear friend last March. We walked the streets, as I rediscovered an old friend, one who I had not given too much time to in the past. I had been busy chasing indulgence and other perspectives. I was a few weeks pregnant.

It has snowed almost every day since Christmas. Inches and inches of snowy white draped over everything the eye can see. Giving weight to the limbs of the trees, and whisking us all to slumber.

Stella and her Mama, Erie, late December 2018

Stella 3 months old, Erie, late December 2017

Of all of the millions of things I think when I see you Stella, amazed is high up there. Joy. Awe, wonder. To be a new mother with a riveting, deep, curious and determined daughter like you.

Stella 5 months old, Erie, February 2018

"How are you, Gaga?"

"I'm perfect"

Holly Drive, Fairview, PA 2017

These photographs were taken in October 2016 by Isadora Shamash at a pivotal moment in my life. Deep grief and rebirth were happening in tandem, shared daily with my friend. We explored our emotional selves, allowing the depth to be uncovered. We returned to ritual to punctuate, as seen by me smudging the landscape of Elk Creek in Fairview, PA.

There is something so primal about seeing your baby in her fathers arms, knowing together you created this amazing human being. Without one the other would not exist.

Billy and Stella, Erie

I birthed this amazing girl 4 months ago and my life gets better every single day. Thank you my darling Stella Claire for joining me on this journey.

As I review the last few years of loss, love, travel, the memories flood back to me, the smells, the movement, the vivid color. I have been very fortunate.

One vivid experience was during my visit to Moengo, a town inland Suriname, close to the Amazon. The trees were extraordinarily tall, thin, and tall. The buzz of insects and animals was thick, as thick as the brush underneath our feet, crunching as we stepped further inside. Without our guide, we would have quickly been gobbled up by the surroundings. The smells were rich of forest and dew. Flora and fauna twisting and twirling, free to move and grow as they pleased, lush.

As we walked further into the jungle, he taught us, mostly with hand motions and by example, of how he and his friends would hunt and navigate the wood, marking trees with his machete, banging on the trees, clearing the brush. He showed us the fun he had, and has, inside this landscape, also demonstrating his familiarity, and comfort inside. A place deeply close to his heart.

One of the last moments in our walk, he pulled on a hanging branch, hanging far, far down from heights beyond my imagination and began swinging on it. Our giggles erupted, the children inside of us begging to join in on the fun.

All images are 35mm black and white negatives, copyright SMKM.

**Thanks to Diaspora Vibe Cultural Arts Incubator I was chosen to travel to Suriname as part of their annual International Cultural Exchange program, 2016**

When my sister died, August 11, 2016, we decided to have a birthday party for her. Her 25th birthday was coming up, September 4, 2016, and we wanted to celebrate her, as well as come together, again. I wanted to plant a tree for her, as a way to honor her wishes of being cremated at The Farm (in Fairview, PA) and Harbour Island, Bahamas. I had her hair and would plant it with the tree to watch her grow.

This is the tree we found, a joyful, dancing Weeping Japanese Cherry Blossom Willow Tree. It blooms pink in the springtime, and was 11 feet tall. I hugged it immediately.

Fairview, PA

Claire's spirit rules all, she is present in all ways and most recently, my film.

New Orleans, Louisiana

Harbour Island, Bahamas

I have been avidly photographing spaces, places, homes left behind in the diaspora for many years. Curious about the creation of a home and the decision to abandon ship, allow for new dwellers to arrive. Spiderwebs have a certain vulnerability that I find in homes injured in New Orleans, and homes left partially made. Nature always has a way of taking over, whether through expression or through growth, or both. This work has carried me through. I appreciate the human desire to tend to spaces, to renovate, to repaint, to upkeep, as much as I admire the human habit of creating and abandoning. Not all spaces are left inhabited, but all spaces leave their mark.

Her first Angel Flight, Erie