For now, I can only say this. I have been using a blasted camera for nearly all my life. I enrolled in one photography class at USC’s Coastal Carolina campus at Conway, South Carolina when I was 19 years old. I should have at least done the Level 2 class, but was so outdone on not being able to exit the darkroom with prints which had the velvet blacks through pristine whites of Ansel Adams that I opted out of that media very quickly.

Besides, I found it to be very expensive for something I just could not seem to grasp. There were such profound and unbending subtleties to the art of making a photograph that eluded me so, that I happily finished that class with a B and moved on to other media.

In 1996, something changed with the advent of digital photography. Of course the first massive change was the sheer profundity of shots one could stow away and never have to invest a small fortune in high quality paper prints. Yet, at that same moment, I realized the rarity of an image, the sense of treasuring something made dear as most people just could not endlessly go on making photos without ratcheting up the expense of doing so. The image had become expendable.

Something photographic this way comes

In 1996, that consideration of the expendable image began to intrigue me, and the small digital camera I had purchased for far too much money up front just to record my paintings as a record keeping tool began to lure me into it’s viewfinder. Talk about a portal.

For now, on this page, I can only say this. I have never considered myself a photographer. I never intended to move in that direction save for the utility of a camera. Up until two years ago, I always explained that I was just using a camera to capture imagery which I then took into Photoshop and made into digital art.

But as circumstances of having to be in South Carolina extended without the ability to use my home studio in New Mexico to create all the larger Hybrid works I wanted to complete, my camera took on a greater role. As I was searching electronic folders for images “to work up into something,” I would notice a photo here, then another one there. The line of determination came to be, “There’s nothing more you should do with that image.” Sometimes great restrictions on your abilities lead to a very different view of creativity.