I’m just now beginning to understand the little thread of continuity that runs through my life.
I like finding meaning in life. It gives me a sense of comfort and confidence. I find deep satisfaction when seemingly disparate interests and ideas coalesce into a more complete concept or way of life.
Just as I did as a small child, I get a certain tingle of joyful expectancy when I sense the shift of a season. The innate knowing of what the late-winter chirping birds herald, of what the triumphant first sprouts pushing their way through the earth will bare and what the musty, dry-earth smell of late-summer will bring.
Discovering the magic of photography – and magic it is – was a love affair from the beginning. Though the medium has changed greatly – no more alchemical afternoons spent in the dark room – the power of that captured image is, indeed, a distillation of the moments that create our lives.
Some of my most-prized images are those of my grandmother Barbara Rains standing beneath a great apple tree in her backyard. An apple tree my mom grew up playing under. And of course images of the soft folds in my baby’s pudgy little arms.
I love portrait photography for the insight into the inherent beauty of us all in every season of our life.
And so, behold: my photography work: