Holstein
Found Baseballs. I began collecting these baseballs in the winter of 2004-2005. Discovered in the park near my house where I walk my dog daily (she’s old now, but still joins me on our daily forays) they went unnoticed by others. I’ve since expanded my circle to ball fields in other towns and other states. Abject, rejected and forlorn, their immediate condition depended on the season of their discovery. Some hid in the high grass, gutted by lawnmowers, or under leaves, aging not so gracefully — the leather skins long since lost to time. Covered in ice crystals on a February morning or shrouded in summer moss, they all hinted at mysterious pasts. Whether you connect them with the games of your youth or the national pastime, I see them only as objects of beauty begging to be photographed.
