About the Kitchen Table
My favorite coffee table book sits on my table next to a pack of playing cards. The following photos are in that book. Carefully arranged. Thoughtfully curated. I got out the shower not too long ago and walked past it reflecting on the woman who bought that book and the child who stole those cards.
When I was a kid I would find the crispiest pack of cards left after the cookout, party, holiday dinner, etc. and carry it off into some remote corner for a game of solitaire. The loneliness of that kind of habit isn’t lost on me, but it feels like a reminder that from a child, I always knew I had myself to contend with. I was the person most primed for playing, or learning, or listening, exactly the way I needed someone to.
That feels just as true at 24. I have friends for card games now. We can play spades over spilled drinks and laughter that fills a room. But I always remember for a moment what it was like before them. What it felt like to be so young sitting confidently and quietly with me…just me. I think that’s why this first photo speaks to me so often — why I come back to it.
This series reminds me of those lonely games of solitaire. Everything in the periphery, changing, full of feeling, people coming, going, staying longer than planned but always evident of the passage of time. Some kind of metaphor or simile feels appropriate here. Like satellites around a constant sun. Or many.
The constants: The table. The cards. Carrie. Me.
