Ten years ago, after finishing and then abandoning a novel that had consumed my life for a decade, I picked up the camera and found that somehow, what I had been trying to say with words seemed better said with images.
And so I moved from the quiet solitude of a writing room to the noisy color and light and shadow and movement of those multitudes making their way through the chaotic streets of New York City.
Painters and sculptors have influenced my work as a photographer more, perhaps, than photographers have. The photographs are often mistaken for paintings, which means, since they seem to straddle two ways of making, they are somewhat orphaned, drifting between categories as they do. The walls of art galleries is most often where they find a home, as well as the pages of magazines such as Fotoargenta, which also ride those blurred edges of categories.