Domestic Life in an Age of Spectacle

I have to confess that there are days when my greatest pleasure in life is simply staying home and looking carefully at the life we’ve created within these walls. I sometimes wonder what it is in me that prefers my own front porch, or the rocking chair where most of my reading takes place, to galas, movies, museums, or wine tastings. And yet, I see nothing wrong with turning my photographic gaze toward my own home above all other places.

There was once a time when I imagined a different kind of fulfillment. I wanted to become known for something, to be considered an expert in a particular field, to possess unlimited financial freedom, or to earn the admiration of my peers. But ambitions like these are inherently fragile, forever vulnerable to disappointment, changing circumstances, and the unpredictable turns of life.

What I have discovered instead is that the ordinary rhythms of domestic life steady me when the wider world feels hostile, chaotic, or beyond my control. I find genuine meaning in emptying the dishwasher, watering our plants, refilling the bird feeder, or lingering over the beautiful images in the latest issue of Leica Fotografie International. These simple rhythms of home do not feel insignificant to me. They remind me that much of what gives life meaning is quietly woven into the ordinary fabric of our days.

And I do not believe this inwardness is a retreat from reality. If anything, my photographs have become quietly political in their own way. They attempt to articulate what is precious in ordinary life — the very things worth protecting from corruption, cruelty, greed, and indifference. In their own quiet language, they push back against compromised politicians, oligarchs, power-hungry tech-bros, and the machinery of endless domination and spectacle.

Rallies and marches matter. Public witness matters. But increasingly, I suspect many of the most consequential struggles unfold elsewhere — in courtrooms, committee rooms, subcommittees, schools, libraries, local communities, and around kitchen tables where people quietly choose decency again and again.

And yes, there are days when I choose to stay home, do some reading, watch something on Netflix, repair the copier, and feel deeply grateful that there are brilliant and courageous people in the world fighting important battles on behalf of all of us.

Domestic life reminds me daily what is truly at stake. And in its own modest way, it continues to call me toward contributing — however imperfectly, however quietly — to the making of a more humane and civil society.