A few years ago I decided to take pictures of the lost gloves I encountered while walking around the city of Chicago. A thematic montage in bad weather. One of my rules was never to move or pose any of the gloves from their found positions. Every lost glove has it's own personality along with an easy to imagine story about the person that owned the glove in the first place. Behind every lost glove is a probable amount of cursing and one cold hand.
In addition to taking photographs of the actual gloves that I encountered I also decided to merge the philosophy of George Ivanovich Gurdjieff with the physical act of stopping to take the picture. One of his ideas was that we are robotic in our day to day activities and that once we realize that we are asleep it is necessary to force ourselves to wake up. Remembering oneself or stopping the flow of mechanical momentum became part of the game of photographing the gloves. Everytime I took a picture of a glove I tried to snap out of my waking fog and focus briefly on a deeper aspect of introspection.
