I couldn't afford new cameras. I bought second hand cameras and they broke. I didn't want them to break. But they did. I continued using them until I could use them no more.

 I had a Hasselblad with a non-synching lens, a light-leaking back and a shutter that fired intermittently.

 A Rollei SLX had a slippy back. I held it on with a piece of string. It worked - some of the time.

The pictures that resulted were sometimes faulty. One picture would slide over another, the sequence of images merging in frenzies of eating, playing, singing, joking or posing.

 Energies are intensified, roles deepen as the single image enters the flow of the moving image through the overlaps of one picture on top of another. These sequences create a cinematic effect. Where there are similarities between images, there is a single sequence where movement is introduced to the still image. In other sequences, movement and action energies the scene creating a story arc that might be interrupted by light leaks, by overlaps, by the early closing of a shutter.

 I’m interested in how these images work together, and how the film rebates, how the overlapping ends and the slipped backs combine to tell a story. I’m interested in how the material nature of celluloid says something that a digital file never could, how it overlaps with the historical and social representations of film, and how that representation will change over time.

 Most of all I’m interested in the physical and visual presence of the pictures from that process. They tell the story of my family life. They tell the story of my cameras. They're Broken Camera Pictures.