One day while walking down aisle K in the cavernous storage warehouse where I rented a unit, I began to sense that I was not alone. I started to take in the rich imagery around me, as I passed each unit, one by one. Each chain-link fenced “cage” had some kind of amazing untold story. The longer I walked, the more I felt as if I was being watched by all of these strange things that someone had once owned and used, but that were now relegated to a forgotten heap in an anonymous warehouse. I also began noticing the wide range of truly weird stuff people keep in storage—and I found myself making up stories about all of it.
The following weekend I decided to go back and take my camera with me. I made the foolish mistake of asking one of the very nice ladies who works there if I could take some pictures and she said—emphatically—no. So from that moment on, it was a clandestine mission: truly horrible lighting, no flash, and a 35 mm size Canon Rebel camera that was tough to hide
I did this for about 5 years, waking up on an occasional Sunday morning, grabbing the camera and just walking around in the murky light of the warehouse for a couple of hours, taking quick snapshots as I explored.
One day I cleaned out my unit; my new house had enough storage space. I brought the camera one last time and walked for hours, aisle by aisle, unit by unit, until I had covered the entire place, about the size of a football field.
The following images are a selection of some of my favorite shots from those Sunday mornings.