“All photographs are a collection of facts, but the inflection is different.
This is one of the great mysteries of photography: how we bring so much of ourselves to such a simple instrument.”
—Richard Misrach, on Landscape and Meaning

I pretty much always shoot from the heart, trusting my instincts. If something catches my eye or hits me at the moment, I take the picture. I rely on the culling and sorting of images back home, on the monitor, to hone in on what I’m trying to say. I am ruthless with regard to which pictures I keep. Both of these images were fun to take — and honestly, required a fair amount of effort. Pulling the car over, getting out of the car. And for the picnic table at the entrance to Chesapeake Trial, walking in the ditch alongside Route 17 on a chilly winter day. It’s always worth it. Even if the picture is mediocre. Even if my vision doesn’t materialize.

What I’m looking for is something evocative and universal. It’s not my job to tell the reader what to feel . . . which is why titles can be problematic. But it is my work to pull together the pieces in the frame for the story.

 

I rediscover the joy of picking up my camera every day.

I am about simple things done well. I don’t obsess over gear, or pixels, or “likes” on social media.

I’d rather go deep than wide. Quantity doesn’t equate to quality. I try to take fewer more impactful images.

When I take pictures, I seek to let my mind go and relax. My favorite way to spend time — walk and compose — as I pass the world by.

I am not concerned with technical perfection or hitting the mark every time. A picture that is blurred often has an emotive quality that is undeniable.

I appreciate small triumphs.

I am naturally curious about people, objects and spaces and my photography explores the relationships between the three. Even when there are no people in the frame.

I’m all about taking the long way and the long view.

I love finishing touches and I’m willing to put in the extra time and effort to make meaningful things well.

I try to remember it’s all about perspective. No rain. No flowers.

 
 
 

Trust yourself. Trust your taste. Trust your capacity to cultivate and grow and develop and make your own taste. Take recommendations from others, sure, but ultimately allow the buck to stop with you yourself. Have the courage to articulate to yourself what you do and do not like. Have the courage to challenge and stretch yourself. And ultimately have the courage to be your own tastemaker.

—Bridget Watson Payne, How Art Can Make You Happy

 

Photography is, above all else, for me, an experience. Not really a process. Not a product. Not a document. Not a recording or a memory. At least not fully. I take pictures like this one and bring them home. I might set this one as my desktop background for a week or so. Like falling in love with a new song and playing it over and over again till you learn the words and the melody seeps into your soul. I remember vividly walking on the boardwalk in Colonial Beach, passed Lemon’s Snack Bar and headed toward the Pool Room, Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl) by Looking Glass, blaring on the loudspeaker. Whenever I hear that song, I am immediately transported back in time where I am sixteen and a bikini is still part of my wardrobe. In the same way as a favorite song, a well-loved picture moves me through time. This picture will always be about my experience of seeing the world pared down to what really matters.