There’s something poetic about walking into a strange house and finding the remains of breakfast still on the kitchen table. It’s November 14, and we were scheduled to photograph a recently remodeled kitchen. There were three of us, a representative from the architectural firm that had hired us, my assistant, and myself. The residents were off at work or school. We were left with instructions to let ourselves in; the key would be under the mat. As it turns out, the key wasn’t under the mat. But in the midst of poking around we discovered that the back door was unlocked.
My first impression was that the home owners must have forgotten about our arrangements to photograph the place. Why else would one leave things in a total state of disarray. Once we confirmed that the homeowners anticipated our intrusion we got to work. But not before I photographed this cereal bowl with my iPhone. It feels like it’s an invasion of privacy to capture this photo. An intimate snapshot of how people really live. And I find myself creating all sorts of stories about what happened at the breakfast table that morning.