The U.S.S. Grover is a glass bottom boat that I built for my camera. This project simply designed to be a way of capturing images underwater, particularly in shallow areas where one may not make a point of using a truly waterproof camera. Through the complexity of both fabrication and use, however, I encountered several unexpected outcomes.
In many ways, I found that the images we do see from underwater are less interesting than the fact that we can’t naturally see through water (even if we submerge ourselves, our eyes won’t focus the light). By cobbling together a contraption that interrupts this boundary, we cross into a world that is alien and uninhabitable. There is a degree of physicality to this process: wading through cold water, leaning down to block glare, and peering through your own shadow. Even the device itself breaks the surface of the water and changes its flow. Something about this feels mythical–like physically reaching into an otherworldly portal. And interestingly, this portal can send us in many directions. Without a shadow to block glare, the darkness underwater turns the glass window into a reflective mirror, revealing the world above me–at whatever distance I choose to focus. It is also possible to focus neither underwater or above, but only on the pane of glass itself.
Musing about the implications of this project, I’ve wondered how much photography has been altered by the limitations our cameras face in accessing the world? I wonder also, how building appendages that extend the reach of our cameras might redefine our relationship to image making?
What do you think?


























