A selection of my photographic work for consideration. Enjoy! Please don't hesitate to contact me with any questions or comments you may have. This is my second cousin, possibly removed, I can't remember how that works. As you can see, she is of uncanny intelligence and presence, and it was she who very consciously and assertively chose her relationship to my lens at this moment. Me, I just had to know enough to grab on and take the damn picture. index.html DSC_8845 As usual, a pick from a series. Here, I walked alone through the gasping oven of the Badlands, seeking with blinded eyes. index.html DSC_5819 Dawn in Wyoming brought a roadhouse stop for our vegetable-oil-powered schoolbus; after taking care of necessities, I grabbed my camera and trekked down a dirt road. index.html IMG_0286_mod Halfway up a mountain in NH, late fall. I enjoyed the sagging melody of this soggy piece of forest. index.html IMG_0332_mod A moment of hush as the late summer sun rises on the city. Providence, RI, USA. index.html IMG_0204_mod The Greek facade of the Arcade, a Providence landmark; in true American style, this temple facade encases the oldest indoor shopping mall in America. index.html IMG_0210_mod Waterfall study from the Upper Wood River, RI, USA. Moving water presses me as a photographer and philosopher, both; a long exposure yields the swishing flow that feels true; but a bare snap of light from the air gives us a crisp insight into a frozen moment that our eyes alone cannot see. Which is the truth? index.html YES_IMG_0432_waterfall_fix A venerable old tree in South County, RI, USA. index.html IMG_0048 Three generations. Jim Bartlett, local writer and golf pro, reclines under a painting of his father as a boy; in the foreground, his newest child, already brimming with attitude. index.html 00004_RT8_fixed A jewel of a man named Albrecht, whom even the Soviet Empire could not contain so many years ago, led me one gentle afternoon into his barn in southern Wisconsin. It was filled with antique Mercedes, in various states of repair. The two of us spent a breathless hour, gasping together as he showed me the lines of artistry in the gleam of lacquer and chrome. Ah, Albrecht. I miss you. index.html DSC_7616 The glory of the world was upon us, as the sky caught fire and our collective breath of joyous expectation washed over the heated sands. This woman stood atop a camper, crying: 'We are alive, alive! Can you feel it? Alive!' She was channeling us all. index.html IMG_0609 This is my dear friend Neta and her older brother, photographed at the zen monastery that has been home sometimes, amidst the glorious fall. I love the way that you can see her safety and freedom here, in the strong embrace of this man of great warmth and little fear. index.html DSC_9626 A moment of reflection during an engine project at the Steelyard; we worked through the long cold nights, converting a Unimog from gas to propane fuel. My dear friend Curtis, an amazing lifelong mechanic, who is not afraid to go under the hood of the emotional machine, either. index.html DSC_9934_sm A long exposure in the midst of Wonderland (Brooklyn artists coop)yields two poses, and a drift of cigarette smoke. index.html IMG_0401 Lucius shows his determination in the midst of the Nevada desert. index.html IMG_0436_mod Ths image is my favorite from a series where I worked to capture the reality of my life at the time...A nomad, riding alternatively-fuelled beasts across the great expanses of this country, my eye, my lens acting as witness, mirror, finding rhythm and context within and without. index.html DSC_4441 This study comes from my days exploring the forgotten corners of a derelict army air base on the RI coast. This heavy pile of huge pipes lay corroding in the summer sun, mouthing silent laments to the lost vision of their youth; in peeling stenciled paint came betraying whispers of a long and pointless voyage across the seas...that ship's hold girding them sternly like a father bear, and finally disgorging them upon these shores to fulfill their mighty purpose. And then...the workers never came, the many hands took hold of other tools, and now...nothing but the summer sun and the bare hot breeze to breathe down their empty lengths. index.html IMG_0217 It was an endless evening in the great American West, the sunlight shining fully horizontal, unobstructed across the expanse of plains around us. The dresses were fluorescent, and the chants incandescent, all upon the cooling air. index.html DSC_6130 View from a kayak, on the Wood River, RI, USA. I was floating beneath a giant maple in all its glory, and looked down at the water... index.html CRW_0073b