It is true. We have a beautiful time as long as time is time at all.1
While some might consider me a photographer, I am really more an assembler of images and tableaux that conjure up an interior landscape. The poetic aspects of pinhole photography are what draw me to it. I work “blind”; my camera has no viewfinder and I do not know exactly what it will give me. Thus my camera is my silent and enigmatic collaborator; it “sees” with the odd clarity of dreams or memory. My camera’s lensless pinhole eye renders everything equally in or out of focus, with infinite depth of field.
Usually I work in my studio, where I set up arrangements of images and objects culled from my “museum of memory.” ...