My aim has been to apprehend the world in a single stroke of art; to reveal the numinous manifest in our quotidian reality; to make that unique, idiosyncratic mark summing up the enormity of reality; to author images equal to the intensity of being alive.  When acute ophthalmic thyroid disease compromised my vision and made my studio practice problematic, I still needed to make art. I needed a solution. A camera fashioned from a laundry detergent box, spray painted matte black, then fitted with a patch of aluminum can pricked with a pin, solved my dilemma. This now beat up box has become the vehicle of my artist’s ambition and an ideal medium to record what I see that brings me to my knees. I don’t need to read little numbers in panels or on dials. I don’t need to struggle looking through a viewfinder or squint at a screen. I judge exposure by time of day, longitude and season, relying on serendipity and a bit of unseen assistance. I’ve been taking aim at spaces both sacred and profane here in New England and wherever I travel. I shoot where I sense some unseen spiritual presence, be it an alley or a shrine. Part of my great joy in shooting this way lies in the seeming lack of control that allows me to both shrug off my failures and delight in my successes.
. . . of course, I'll always draw . . .