Biography
I began photography as a teenager in Washington, D.C., learning to develop and print black and white film in the darkroom. Formative experiences- documenting the dedication of the Vietnam War Memorial in 1984 as well shooting for a local weekly, The Potomac Almanac - pulled me toward documentary work and the human interest story. Those instincts still guide me. After walking past the Leica store longingly looking in the window for years, it was a coup de foudre; I decided it was time to continue my photography full steam ahead, walking out with a camera I yearned for since those early days in hand. I am drawn to images that are natural and unforced, made with restraint and without manipulation. Black and white remains central to my work. My Monochrom brings me back to when I fell love with photography, shooting manually, in control and allowing me to distill mood and tone and capture my singular point of view.
Artist’s Statement
My work centers on quiet, overlooked moments—scenes that reveal themselves through light, composition, and a sense of minimalism. Each image is a process of refinement, clarifying what I see and how I carry it through to the finished photograph, reflecting an understated, observational sensibility and authenticity. The photojournalistic eye keeps it honest. Without color, the frame simplifies, and the subject asks for a closer look. You start to notice what usually passes unseen — the way a cigarette is held, a wrinkle in a fabric, brief eye contact with a stranger.
My current projects consist of documentary, street photography, and environmental portraiture. I am working toward a gallery exhibition, where I can showcase some of these images telling a story of some of the unseen and fading professions from a (increasingly) bygone era. A doll repair shop in Rome, a cobbler working with tools from turn of the last century, the pride of a maitre’D in Europe. In our age of artificial intelligence and losing touch with some of these sides of humanity, I want to document them before some of them disappear while honing my recognizable photographic voice.