This series explores the powerful human experience of the passage of time on a scale beyond photography’s fraction-of-a-second instincts. My husband’s rich, old, white grandfather spends his final frail years surrounded by robust black nurses instead of family, adult diapers instead of underwear and blaring televisions whose sounds he can scarcely comprehend in stead of friends. He is defined no longer by his character, or his personality, but by the objects and the walls around him. Educated, elevated, a member of the ruling class of the Old South, our subject now exists in a haze of indignity. He is becoming, like the face on the wall behind him, an inert memory. Another dead ancestor, attached to no one and nothing but the gilt frame that pins him to the wall. Meanwhile, most people around him are waiting – waiting for him to die.