I became a photographer when I decided to narrow my focus, squeeze into the confines of my viewfinder, and look for texture and shape. No more merely recording events, people, and places. The narrowing and the squeezing, paradoxically, did not confine me. Rather it opened up a whole new world.
When I frame an image, two things happen. What I see comes from the world around me; what I look for comes from within. They don’t always tell the same story or fit comfortably together, and that can be quite dispiriting. Trying to resolve the impasse is hard work, and sometimes one or the other takes over, and that’s OK; it’s part of the journey. But when they do mesh, it releases a powerful flow, I’m in the zone, and time is irrelevant. I’m making photographs.
The images I find pleasing often display organic geometries that find expression in symmetry, in pattern, in shape, and in structure. Nevertheless, more often than not, these geometries overflow the confines of mathematical precision through the irregularities of a natural world that is unbounded, complex and fluid. On occasion, they reach the edge of comfort, they push beyond the known, and they open a door to uncertainty and promise.
A good image for me produces contentment and intrigue, an upwelling of delight, a time to exhale, a feeling of serenity, an occasion for meditation and reflection. I am happy.