Combing through junkyards, abandoned train cars, metal recycling centers, shipping containers, and even dumpsters, I seek beauty in the eyesores. 

For several years I have been building a body of work created in the boatyards, shipyards, and marinas of the waterfront areas of Baltimore, Annapolis, and beyond. I explore the surfaces, textures, colors, and shapes of drydocked and derelict boats and barges, revealing secret subjects that are normally submerged. 

This is an ongoing body of work that emerged from many hours of hiking in the woods during the months of the Covid-19 pandemic. My photographic practice is one of outdoor exploration, but being limited to areas close to home, I found myself revisiting the same walking trails in a meditative practice. Seeking peace in a time of anxiety, I was also looking deeply into the familiar terrain to discover something new. 
 
Drawn repeatedly to streams and marshy areas, I observed that in areas of still water, the surface often contains iridescent colors and metallic textures. These are the product not of petroleum, but of beneficial iron-oxidizing bacteria naturally produced in groundwater-fed streams. The colorful surfaces, fallen leaves and other organic matter, distorted reflections of trees and sky, and the murky shapes in the streambed, all transform the water we take for granted into a source of mystery awaiting discovery. This work is a reminder that small moments can take on great significance when attention is paid. 
 

This body of work emerged from my explorations in the many waterfront areas of Maryland and other places. The plays of light, color, and form that flicker across moving water are mesmerizing when witnessed in motion, but they offer other opportunities when frozen in a split second of time. I tend to be a control freak, carefully composing and controlling all aspects of the images I make, but photographing these constantly changing scenes requires me to relinquish control to chance and spontaneity. There is a sense of discovery, not only at the time I witness the moving reflections, but afterwards when I see what each frame has captured. I then select individual frames that contain a balance of structure and chaos, representing the balance between deliberation and instinct I seek to achieve in my photographic practice. Some images include parts of the reflected subject, while others concentrate solely on the reflections themselves. 

Over the years I have developed a series of details in old automobiles and trucks left to decay. My interest is not in the pristine, restored classics, but the forgotten ones languishing in fields and scrapyards across the country. They are photographed as I find them, with debris and patina intact. Beyond documenting the design elements of a bygone area -- the ornate chrome nameplates and flamboyant details of fenders and hood ornaments -- these remnants speak of a time that may seem to recall romance and luxury, but celebrating these vehicles in their decaying state echoes my own ambivalence about what some people believe were "the good old days." The decay evident now shows that time has indeed moved on, and that even chrome, glass and steel will eventually be reclaimed by the forces of nature. 

I explore the natural world -- anywhere from my backyard to a botanical garden -- with the intention of capturing the details overlooked by the casual observer. By getting up close and personal with subjects such as leaves, trees, moss, or stone, and then printing these details larger than life, I act as a magnifying glass to help viewers see what they may otherwise be missing.

Like many people, I love to visit national parks and monuments, natural landmarks, and other scenic places; however, those sites have been photographed millions of times and I am challenged to transcend the traditional "postcard" image when photographing in these places. I slow down and take the time to isolate details in a way that renders the scenery less recognizable, by focusing on the unique graphic qualities in the more intimate landscapes. Skies and horizon lines are often eliminated; reflections may be inverted, and the results become more abstract. I seek to celebrate the beauty of these places while also exploring a deeper challenge, rather than simply ticking a destination off the travel list.  

Several years ago I visited the Artic regions of Greenland and Svalbard, and then traveled to Antarctica a year later. These unique opportunities  allowed me to study the forms of polar ice and water in icebergs and glaciers. It was a stark reminder of how fragile the polar regions are, and how rapidly they are changing. They are some of the most magical and unspoiled locations on earth, and yet the evidence of global climate change is apparent. I sought to capture images that simultaneously portrayed the majesty and fragility of these icy domains.

I was fortunate enough to explore Cuba with a small group of photographers in 2015 -- we enjoyed an unusual degree of freedom to explore the cities of Havana and Santiago, going beyond the tourist district and meeting the people who live and work in the surrounding neighborhoods. They were gracious and generous with their time, and the experience will stay with me for a lifetime. I am not typically a street photographer, but this experience opened me up in many ways. 

The deserts of the American southwest continually call to me, ever since my first trip out west, over 25 years ago, when I also began to pursue my interest in photography. Since then, I have returned numerous times, and I find new subjects every time, even when I return to old favorite locations.