I have had some unplanned downtime to think about the meaning of my photographs. I wonder if being process oriented keeps me from knowing what my work is about. My images speak to me but often in disparate ways without a common thread. The connection they share is they are mine and I make them happen. They are fragments of my small world. This much I know.
My process as an artist is intentionally haphazard. I believe that randomness keeps my image-making fresh. I do not take my camera everywhere I go but pick it up when compelled. When I was worked as a newspaper photographer I sought stories to tell. But now, working for myself and creating images for their own sake is more complicated - - especially when asked what it is that I photograph. My response is "anything and everything." Ambiguous. Yet I can't find a better answer.
I stumble upon inspiration, finding it tangled in a thick hedge. A "Whoozit" catches my eye as I walk through my neighborhood. How did it land there and had anyone noticed it astray? My guess is that it was swiftly replaced with a new, cleaner version. The child who lost it probably never knew it disappeared.
There is something about this process that grabs, holds and propels me forward. The photographs become markers and I drift in between them. While I continue to ponder the larger meaning of my work one thing is beyond question, uncertainty is key.
