I began photographing these memorials on a long drive to Canada. Some people might think it is a morbid subject to record, but I see each memorial as a beautiful work, a sculptural and architectural monument to the loved ones it honors. When there is little sacred left in our world, these memorials are one of the few protected rituals remaining. Children somehow intuitively realize not to tear them down, road workers will keep a respectable perimeter. The only exception to this I know of was in the Chatsworth 2008 train crash, where families of those killed set up memorials alongside the train tracks only to have them removed by railroad workers. Whether it is an urban street corner or in the hidden groves of a forested island, each shrine is testament to the way people chose to represent, celebrate, and remember life.