Why do I do photography? Should I drink a bottle of scotch, instead? Or murder a complete stranger?
Gatita, 1978 I do not even remember taking this photograph of Gatita. She must have been no older than a year, then. I found it when browsing thru my archives, although I was specifically looking for photographs of her. It has been said, and written, that photographs became memories, taking over their texture, their depth.... Continue Reading →
As time goes on, as it does, usually, my eyes, my mind, sharpens, and cuts through images that I had kept, they were, still, too close to my heart. Notes about editing.
constraining creativity? I am posing this as a question, not as a statement.
After sorting out my websites, I went out for a longish walk. Good humoured, the highlights being encountering a woman and her two daughters on Pearson Park on a bike ride, just for them catching me about half an hour later two or three miles up the road. End of year, no much to see... Continue Reading →
Then we loose all, our humanity.