I’ve been a late bloomer my whole life.  Imbued with the cultural richness of the Washington D.C. region as a child, I fled the oppressive crowds for the comparative obscurity of the inland northwest when I was 18.  From there, the paths became random, disastrous, successful, occasionally planned, and always full of amazement at the natural beauty of this planet.  It took decades to get a solid footing under me and discover the magic of photography, and in so doing, discover myself.

 

My father had a camera at the ready constantly.  He had a darkroom that I spent time in for years, coming to understand the alchemy of photography.  As a young adult, and before the digital era, I found I was too impatient with film photography, and abandoned the craft for a decade. 

 

When digital imagery started to take root, I paid attention.  Today, the resolution of a full-frame digital sensor far outpaces that of a 35mm frame of film.  More importantly, the post-processing work that’s done after the image is taken is now unbound to any technical constraints, which opens the door for the strikingly beautiful as much as it does the garish gaudiness that is too easily achieved.

 

Living in western Washington, water has become my muse, and my most photographed subject.  I particularly love long-exposure photography, where the shutter is held open for an indefinite duration, allowing light over time to be smeared across the sensor.  The effect can be stunning, especially when it comes to water or clouds.  

 

I am amazed by light and the way it moves through the atmosphere; the way it scatters, coalesces, and drapes the land, constantly changing.  The closer to the beginnings or the endings of a day amplify this changing light, and my ongoing challenge is to figure out how to be in the right place at the right time.