Photography - my kind of photography, at least - is slow. And thatís the largest measure of its appeal. In the midst of the hustle, something seizes my attention: a flower, a reflection, a waterfall, a snow-covered mountain, an eyebrow, a hand. Why? What is it about it that is remarkable? What is there to see? What stirred an emotion?
It may not be readily apparent. The camera is clarifying. I move around the scene or the subject, higher, lower, closer, closer still. Change lenses. Change again. Iíve never seen a morning glory blossom in this way before. Mount the camera on the tripod. Focus. Select aperture and shutter speed. Scrutinize the edges for distractions. Click. Dig out the reflector. Change settings. Click. Dig out the diffuser. Change settings. Click. Dig out the polarizer. Change settings. Click. Back away. A different angle. Lying on the ground. Reset the tripod and camera. Click. An hour has passed. Iíve been living in the moment. And Iíve come to know the morning glory.
To capture the essence of that morning glory on film or chip is the essence of my photography. Concentration is required, focus, attention to detail, sensitivity, passion, a dedication to technical aspects of the craft. And an interlude of time.
We are all pulled along at the speed of life. Photography slows my pace.
I came late to Maine in 1977. Grew up in Manchester, CT. Clark University grad. USAF pilot. Commercial banker. Logger. Sawmill owner/operator. CEO of a real estate appraisal firm since 1986. Fly fisherman. Gardener. Beer brewer. Golfer. Snowshoer. Photographer. Joyously married to Martha since 1968. Two almost perfect daughters. Two cats in the yard. I like piano jazz, the ocean, conversation, common sense, fine wine, honesty, short fiction, intelligent humor, old friends, early mornings.