Who?
My mother first put a camera into my hand. In my youth I was always hiking and camping and she would encourage me to bring a camera with me. I remember once photographing a leaf floating down a stream, a few days later that photograph was printed and in a frame on the wall. I get my love of photography from her.
Where?
Close. Almost too close. Sometimes I look at others work and think I should step back and start including more in the frame but something always draws me in closer.
When?
I remember wearing a camera around my neck on a nice leather strap, walking the streets in search of photographs. I had an agenda, an idea of what kind of picture I wanted to make. I would get out and walk to take pictures, but not a lot of pictures happened that way. Nowadays I carry my camera in my pocket, and photographs happen all the time.
What?
The things you see when your eyes are shut. A half distorted reality skewed by your personal experiences. Lies, embellishments and warped memories. Turn day to night, determine where shadows fall. Everyone sees you. The only story you can ever tell from your photographs is your own.
Why?
Because I enjoy it.
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