My mother was a jazz vocalist, and some of my most vivid childhood memories are of her getting me impeccably dressed in my camel hair topcoat and matching cap when I was around five or six, then taking me to her nightclub shows where I watched and listened from the front row. My memories of those times, and of my mother, are both joyful and sad, and mysterious. That’s perhaps one reason why I’ve developed a keen sensitivity to the lower end of the tonal scale over time. I’ve become increasingly fascinated by the delicate nuances, depth, and grace found within darkness. My visualization and printing have become more subdued, emphasizing moments in time without speech or noise—moments that explore the luminosity of shadows. When I assembled these photos, I saw that my jazz images often capture moments where darkness—both real and metaphorical—shapes itself. This darkness often threatens to overwhelm the figures in the photographs, but ultimately, I hope my images celebrate the complexity of the subject and that this complexity shines through with brilliance and clarity.