Barumbara
Barumbara is the name of a house and a chronicle of precarious times. The house gets its name from the Maltese word for dovecote, a stone tower where pigeons once came to roost. For me, it was home and sanctuary.
Pandemics, polemics, and war assailed the dovecote. Inundated, some thrived, some rebelled, and some turned inward, protective, and feral. Ongoing crises, bad-actors and short-sighted policies divide us. To move past anxiety and outrage, I stay curious, educate myself and take action. When I feel impotent, I remember I am one of many. Somewhere between incrementalism and revolution there’s a way forward.
I made these images in the middle of the night, compelled by darkness and mixed color temperatures. I’m drawn to moonlight and the artificial glow of streets and interiors. Long exposure gives them their characteristic softness and intense warm palette. I want to evoke a sense of suspended animation, a safe-haven, an eye of a storm – awaiting resolution or retrenching for the next wave.
In the flood story of Noah’s Ark, upon reaching land, Noah sent out a dove three times to see if the waters had receded. The first time, the dove returned having found nothing. The second time, it returned with an olive branch, a sign that God’s punishment was over. The third time, the dove did not return, signaling that it was safe to leave the ark. We watch. We ride the storm. We keep the faith.
