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At ten, my parents acceded to my endless pleas for art lessons. Oil painting remained integral to my life for the next two decades and beyond. Indeed, I seem always to have had "artistic" outlets - first oil painting, later gardening - even though by profession I was a highly-trained, more-than-full-time international economist. By the late 1990's I'd reached a cross-roads. I knew that at least one of the street names related to the arts.
Photography seemed a natural extension of my painter's eye. I capture images on film. I do all my own printing, both in color and in black & white. For me, the comradery and intellectual stimulation of the Smithsonian's darkroom is a further spur to creativity.
I think of my photography as analogous to John Chiardi's view of outlining. Years ago, in the Saturday Review, Chiardi explained his difficulty with the concept. He did not outline. Instead he drafted. His first draft was as close as he came to an outline. Each draft captured additional detail and deepened thought, filling in the outline he never did.
Similarly, I find a subject – rural or urban – I delve into its patterns, large and small. Repeated lines and curves attract me, whether fall leaves or ornate constructions. A creature of habit, I return again and again to the same places, often to the same subjects. Each time I refocus, new aspects appear.
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