The title comes from a book written by my father’s ancestor, to show the lineage of the Fox family in Virginia. For my own purpose, it acts as a metaphorical map of the rediscovered paths of my childhood home.
At the age of 34, I came back to Virginia to care for my mother, who died shortly after my return. As the last of my family passed, I turned my lens to old friends and their new families. I photographed the house in which I grew up. The man that lives there now houses snakes in my father’s old office, and rests them in my old bedroom while he changes their cages. I was terrified of snakes as a little girl. My mom always promised that there were none in my room, and now that she is gone, there are.
These photographs are not meant to be purely autobiographical, but rather representations of how I view things, based on my experiences, and those of others. My work has always been a metaphor for my own growing up, and the small deaths of childhood innocence that occur on the road to becoming an adult. -Susan Worsham