I never feel more alive than when I've found a place and time to photograph. Something rings in my head, like the bell of a boxing match. I know that the light and time and place have all cooperated at that very moment to present me with a unique image, never to be repeated and soon gone forever. I feel it in my gut. I have but a moment. Sometimes I fumble with my camera, cursing it under my breathe. Like my own cold fingers on a frigid day, it initially won't cooperate. Then we settle in and make the image. Sometimes it works, sometimes, back in the studio, it's a huge disappointment. The clinical transferral of life to two-dimensional plane is often fraught with miscalculation.
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