Gallery

	Time, May 7, 2005. I'm conscious of my own hands revealing the passage of time in my life. And yet, paradoxically, Marion and Laura share the same (timeless) moment. (There's about 70 years difference in the ages of these two women.)
	April 23, 2005. In the same area as that below, spring has begun to paint the wetland with subtle colors.
	January 2, 2005. The wetland behind our home changes continually. This was taken on a foggy morning during a brief time when it wasn't covered with snow.
	Veronica and Angelina, 2004. This was a simple grab-shot during a studio session, an image that only later seemed to me to capture something special about these sisters. While each one is beautiful in her own right, their relationship is what takes this portrait out of the ordinary.
	Racing shell on the Huron River, June, 2003. A perfect day to be out--quiet, balmy, with no wind, and the whole river to herself. One thinks of meditation rather than racing. (Notice the bird following her, just to the right of the last oar dip.)
	Eclipse of the Moon, November 8, 2003. It wasn't planned, and I simply set up the camera on a tripod, zoomed to the maximum and shot. Luckily, I got a pretty fair exposure in the shadow portion, but the part in direct sunlight was badly overexposed. So the next evening, I shot the moon again with better exposure, and merged the two in Photoshop.
	Rain, 2003. The rain running down the windowpane caught my eye, and I've been playing with this image a lot. This version was just an attempt to see how it would look behind a black matte. I like it as a miniature.
	Judith, 2002. Something about how she looked, across the table at lunch, made me grab the camera. All I had to do to it was crop a little and darken the tea cup.
	Hanging On, 2002. When I saw this rose still trying to be, after several cold October nights, I grabbed the shot as much simply to acknowledge it as to capture the image. Somehow it spoke to me. For days I worked with the image, cropping it, graying the rest of it back, and flipping it left-to-right so the eye could enter from lower right. It still spoke to me, and I had to add the words. Only then did I understand that it's not about the rose, at all.
	Lighthouse, Smith Island, 1949. I was stationed on this island for two years, and dramatic shots kept presenting themselves to me there. Note: for an earlier view of this building check out the Lighthouse Digest:
	Lighthouse in fog, Smith Island, 1949. One of times when solitude was most apparent.
	Smith Island Cold Front, 1949. When it wasn't fogged in, the island was always dominated by the sky.
	Coast Guard Cutter waiting at anchor for fog to lift in order to pull fishing craft off the beach, 1948
	Hasselblad and lenses, 1975. 8 x 10 view camera on Ektachrome transparency film. Scanned on flatbed (reflective) scanner from original transparency.
	Scio Field, 2000. Sunsets get to be a dime a dozen eventually, but they are hard to resist. This is one of a series taken on the same evening.
	Scio Field 2, 2000. This is from the same negative as the preceding one. Cropping down to emphasize the sun rather than the clouds gives it a different feeling.

This collection will grow, not so much from new pictures I've taken but from ones that strike me from time to time as I browse through my larger collection..