An international airport like Charlotte-Douglas confronts us with a crucial paradox of contemporary life: proximity to other human beings and opportunity for connection with them do not automatically beget those things. With Connections: CLT, I wanted to step literally inside the homes of my own city community and bring the camera with me, not voyeuristically, but with an eye toward empathy, sharing, and connection. Each of the twenty images that constitute Connections: CLT documents an experience shared between strangers: another citizen of Charlotte, North Carolina and me. In the guidelines I set for finding these subjects, I sought to find a balance between program and serendipity that replicated how new acquaintances naturally make their way into our lives and the possibilities that emerged from those connections. Therefore, I did not know or know of any of my subjects prior to meeting them. If possible, I tried to let one connection lead to another, as subjects were encouraged to provide me the name of an acquaintance of theirs who might be open to being photographed at home. Sometimes this attempt at networking led to another subject, then another, and so on; often it did not. One theme that emerged from this photographic experiment was that the people who opened their homes to be photographed were as diverse as the city of Charlotte itself. If the project revealed anything, it showed that hospitality and vulnerability don’t come from any one place, look any certain way, or have any particular agenda. One subject, Michelle, a flight attendant who purchased her forever home in close proximity to the airport, recently found out that she may lose it to the expansion of a runway. She wanted to document the home she loves and to use the opportunity to share her story of disruption. Qunita shared a different story, a single mother of two forced from her home only to find an organization that gave her a place to live and programs to help rebuild her finances. She conquered her hardship by taking full advantage of the financial courses to rebuild her credit and purchase a house for her family. She too, wanted to document this temporary place and to remember what she had overcome. More significantly, the process reminded me that risking new experience is the consistently more rewarding way to make art and to live a life, well worth any short-lived apprehension or momentary awkwardness. Being in my subjects’ homes, where they were ready and comfortable, opened them up to the process and resulted in a more natural final product, one that allowed personal stories to emerge from the objects and mementos surrounding them. I photographed Brenda and Eva in their dining room, where a few feet away hung a blueprint of the childhood home of Eric their late husband and father. This physical object led to a new subject, the current owner of the home and allowed Eva to step foot on the property for the first time in 19 years. This story continues to expose details that deepen the significance of this connection and also reveal a connection to an unknown history of Charlotte. Bhavesh and Monali invited me into their home to capture Monali’s newfound passion, painting. While setting up for the photo, she told the story of her first painting hanging on the wall, a Buddah which her instructor criticized the large Buddah’s lips she had painted. Her family laughed and said that the Buddah must be related to Bhavesh, alluding to his big lips. As I took the first shot Bhavesh stepped in front of the camera, he apologized, but in the image his face lines up directly with the Buddah painting in the story. These stories embody synchronicity and the power of photography to capture the magic that happens in instances sometimes easily missed. This project confirmed what we should understand and remember: that our similarities far outweigh our differences, and that nothing is guaranteed. The project reminded me that initiation of an idea does not guarantee a successful outcome; it must be paired with the ability to adapt, curb expectations, and to see the opportunity in disruption. One must practice and continue to recognize the synchronicity that exists in these moments and if we do not slow down we will almost certainly miss them. The families and the stories they shared were a gift and to them I am eternally grateful.