But I have sometimes thought that a woman’s nature is like a great house full of rooms: there is a hall, through which everyone passes… the drawing room, where one receives formal visits; the sitting room, where members of the family come and go as they list; but beyond that, far beyond, are other rooms, the handles of whose doors perhaps are never turned; no one knows the way to them, no one knows whither they lead; and in the innermost room, the holy of the holies, the soul sits alone. 

-Ms. Edith Wharton, "The Fullness of Life"

My name is Liz. I am an obsessive observer of titillating subjects. I’ve a slight infatuation with the resuscitation of emotion. Simply put, I like to poke at the provocative. I focus on impulse and fervor and consciousness. To capture these, I sometimes wordsmith; but more often than this, I take pictures. To study the rhythm and rhyme of the body- its essence, isms and presence- is a kind of occupation that allows me to discover the character and mental qualities behind the configuration of its form and features. For me, the soul is projection, and I am much more interested in this last tidbit; and for whatever reason, I feel the incessant need to communicate this distinctly, and if need be, fairly forcefully pictorially.