I fell for cameras and light and film decades ago. The romance with photography never ended, tempered now by familiarity. Sculpture stormed in during the last fifteen years or so, turning my head with its variability and presence and seductive three dimensions. I’ve been looking for a way to get those two together ever since.
I take from the world with my photographs. No monkeying with Photoshop other than what I could do easily in a darkroom. The more the photo world digitizes, the more I paddle backwards, using large format or plastic toy cameras, hand-coated emulsions, antique metal salts processes. With sculpture, I make the world. I put this together with that; I juxtapose or separate. I squish, mold, cut, tear, burn, file, sand, slap the thing into being while my photographs simply point—Look. That thing. There.
Where these two do meet is in the primordial bubbling swamp of my id. There is always an eerie cast to whatever percolates up from the unconscious, a preternatural glow, whether it’s a dream or a piece of art. My work offers a glimpse of the unconscious, the otherworldly.