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Anatomy of a Love Letter
Technology unites and isolates people simultaneously. With ease and efficiency, individuals connect through a variety of electronic devices, introducing new contexts within social interaction. The possibilities to stay in touch or meet new people are expanded while the dynamics of relating to another human being is altered in ways we are only beginning to understand.

Separated by over a thousand miles, the ability to consistently communicate is not difficult with email, cell phones, and instant messaging. Yet, there is something so personal and intimate that is lost. You forget the details of their face, their smell, their various facial expressions, their body language. After time it is as if you are brought back to childhood and you have an imaginary friend; keeping you company, talking about your day, sharing stories (obscure all the gadgets and it certainly looks like you are talking to yourself).

Anatomy of a Love Letter explores the shift in a relationship newly parted by distance yet connected by technology. After several months, I felt detached by this new way of relating to another person. Of course I was aware that although I was miles away, the person who was on the other line and typing the emails existed. But there was a lack of physical, well...anything. I needed something, so I asked for proof. Just send me proof that you still exist in more than just my mind. I received 2 rolls of film with microscopic images of bodily existence, documenting the most basic of human functions. As unusual (and potentially off-putting) as the photographs were, there is something comforting, beautiful, and fitting about the choice; a scientist in a research lab sending proof of existence to an artist/photographer thousands of miles away.