One day, when I came home from work, I accidentally put my car key in the door of my apartment building. I turned it, and the whole building started up. So I drove it around. A policeman stopped me for going too fast. He said, "Where do you live?" I said, "Right here!" Then I drove my building onto the middle of a highway, and I ran outside, and told all of the cars to get the hell out of my driveway.
It's fair to say that black folks operate under a cloud of invisibility - this too is part of the work, is indeed central to [my photographs]. . . This invisibility - this erasure out of the complex history of our life and time - is the greatest source of my longing.