In 2013, the U.S. Congress shutdown, the Affordable Care Act launched, and I was laid off from IBM in the same month. Three job offers from three organizations all on hold pending the passage of a congressional budget. I had a lot of time on my hands and spent every morning, for weeks, sitting at a small table in the back of my boyfriend’s restaurant eating hash browns and fruit, drinking coffee, and responding to requests from recruiters for updated copies of my resume. This is also when I started taking fotographs of shop windows: large picture window of a bridal shop, plantation-shuttered window of a day spa, my neighbor’s octagon window covered in film tinted to look like stained glass, the window overlooking the boulevard and restaurant dining room through which I could spy my boyfriend setting and resetting tables for guests. Last summer I toom my first self portrait in the mirrored display window of a Victoria’s Secret store in Columbus, Ohio. There’s something unreal and illicit about the placement of items in front of a window for capture — deliberately or by chance. I am a woman who looks through the crevices you leave uncovered. On a clear day the world is a reflection: danger, intimacy, public, moveable and unmoveable things in the little shadows and big light.