The process of working with a pinhole or hand-made camera holds an inexplicable appeal for me, one evoking a child-like sense of wonder.  While using home-made or simple cameras, I am aware that the same optical process occurs all the time in our bodies as light is transfered into information through our eyes and focused through consciousness.  The fascination of witnessing the simple technology of focused light in action rarely loses its appeal for me.
     A pinhole camera itself serves as a model of a cave: a dark chamber with only a small opening onto the outside world.  In Rabbit Hole, the information recorded on the film's surface is a half-blind, feeble attempt at conveying the space with which one is confronted inside a darkened passage.   Created from illuminating the walls of each cave with a portable spotlight for often half an hour or more, the images have evocations that range from the celestial to the scientific or may be purely abstract.   My choice of lense-less cameras eliminates the possibility of composing through a viewfinder, making each image near random
     The process of illuminating the cave's walls involves a high level of drudgery and physical discomfort.  It also involves a huge amount of trial and error as well as monotonous repetition, aspects of the process which I find immersive and oddly appealing.   This Absurd ritual serves as an illustration of human frailty and the incomplete nature of perception.