. . . is my motto as a documentary photographer and the technical advancements make accurate record keeping a no-brainer. Naturally this rule does not apply to my work as an artist.
For the 25 years prior to this technology entering my life, I mostly pushed black and white 35mm film and occasionally dipped into a dark room or slides. By retrieving one great shot and a few good ones from a 36-frame roll of film I could remain intrigued enough to keep looking. Eleven of those years were spent in New York City where I often watched Andy Warhol , in the clubs, shooting off boxes of Polaroid film from his personal, cultural observation post. Any lingering envy was alleviated upon the purchase of my first digital camera: the feeling is referred to as my Andy Warhol moment.
And now, after only four years, I have more images than I can ever process and cameras within democratic reach no longer have an optical eye piece. Perhaps this is why I insist upon maintaining consistent standards as much as possible. If a bit of art falls off the back of my documentary truck, it is a good thing, but it is not the reason I keep looking. Two things: first, I like nailing history to the old-growth and second, light is my muse.