In the midst of a cross-country drive this spring, I heard news of an explosion on an oil platform called Deepwater Horizon. The sinking rig and oil gushing from 5,000 ft below the Gulf were very present in my mind as I stopped over and over again to fuel my car. I couldn't shake the feeling that this accident was something bigger than first reports were indicating and I had that awful feeling you get when you hear someone close has been in a terrible accident.

For the first month of the disaster I watched the live video feeds from 5,000 feet below the Gulf. I felt sickened at all our helplessness to stop the oil flow and what was going to be happening to the creatures living in and around the Gulf waters. By June I knew I had to go to the Gulf to be a witness and help tell its story with my camera.

Born and raised on the southwest Florida coast, the Gulf of Mexico formed me and is as fundamental a part of my cells and psyche as my parents or grandparents. Before I could walk, I bonded to the soft white sand, endless mounds of colorful shells and sparkling light green water. I learned to swim among minnows, coquinas and dolphins on Longboat Key. I was taught ancient mysteries while hunting fossilized bones and shark's teeth on Venice Beach and saw the awesome power of nature as hurricanes rolled by. I had lessons in patience fishing from the docks and seawalls of the bay with my father. I learned joy and playfulness feeding seagulls dry bread on the beach with my mother and creativity while clamming off Ana Maria Island with my grandmother. I braved fear of the unknown roaming murky waters of mangrove island shores - with hand net and bucket catching, peering at and returning to their swimming and crawling, the creatures that lived there. Though I've left my place of birth and made a life in the magical high deserts of northern New Mexico, the core of my being remains forever a part of the Gulf of Mexico.

I devote my time to photographing the beauty and magic of the natural world and I have used my camera in service during times of natural disaster and human difficulty such as the 2004 Tsunami in India. I want to weave these two parts of my photographic-self together now to tell a story of the Gulf of Mexico with a personal eye toward the natural world and what is happening to the Gulf, its creatures and people.

Many pictures and words are being shared about the Gulf of Mexico now. The images I intend to make are about the Gulf as it is a part of me, as I see it - the water, beaches, and creatures with whom I feel kindred. In mid-July I plan to travel from New Mexico to my birthplace - Sarasota, Florida. I want to photograph the beaches where I grew up before the oil reaches them, and if it does. I want to visit the coastline of the Gulf that is affected by the oil. How far I go and what I do will depend on financing and what I encounter in my travels.

I have launched a fundraising effort to enable my community to help me make this trip possible. Details of how you can support this project are available at: www.memphisbarbree.com/gulfsupport.html . I sincerely appreciate anything you can do to help me tell a part of the story of the Gulf of Mexico.