When people I meet ask me "what do you do?" what should I tell them? Who am I and what am I, now that I am not a butcher, baker or candlestick maker? I'm not a biology teacher any more, or a physical therapist, either. So what am I? From what do I draw my identity and my sense of self?
...For years, I've thought "someday I will write. Someday I'll find a way to share my photography again." Someday is here. And if I can find the courage, I should say with confidence that I am a writer and photographer, a composer of images in words and light, and grow to become these things.
... Light and words. These two ways of image-making grow more like each other in my mind. They are merging like conjoined twins, and one cannot live now without the other. Photographic composition is reflexive after decades of attending to light and shadow, form and color. Occasionally I still frame a scene in a mask made of my thumbs and index fingers. In opposing "L"s, I pull the boundaries in, out, first in portrait, then landscape views.
Now I find that in this new and unexpected realm of writing I do the same with thoughts, metaphors, compositions of words. I stand up close, then move back, rearrange, re-examine. Click! I snap the mental shutter on thumbnail word-images for later. I put them in albums of words, a scrapbook I can show the world each day with my pictures. I am a collector of fragments from Goose Creek.
excerpts from July 2002 Journal