Photography is a basic part of my life. Yes, I’m a professional photographer. More important: I’m a human being – astounded and humbled by how fast our world has changed, how fortunate I’ve been to record the “frames” of these passages for my children and grandchildren.
When I was a student at Brooks Institute in Santa Barbara, working in the 35mm format, shooting Tri-X, manually focusing my Nikkor lenses, setting f-stop and shutter speed, without a light meter, taking pictures was my window on the universe.
Not so long ago the world was still a mysterious place: Darkest Africa, Peru, the Far East, Afghanistan, the Orient. Destinations most people only dreamed about. Languages we had never heard, smells and tastes and clothing we could only imagine. This was in OUR lifetimes. So different now.
Forty years ago we hadn't seen everything already, didn’t even know what we didn’t know. We were wide-eyed, curious, naïve. Back in 1972, when friends of mine at Brooks Institute dropped out of school to become the first white people ever to be seen by, and live with, a particular tribe in New Guinea, it took months for us back home to learn about them. MONTHS!
When my friends returned to the States they learned from the priest who took them to New Guinea that the tribal people they lived with wept for them daily. My friends had become part of the tribe's Song. It was the song of their history and it was ten thousand years old.
I still weep when I think how beautiful this story is: to become a verse in a community's song, a part of the history of their whole existence. My God, man.
I have always seen my life as framed moments, frozen in time. I’ll go to my grave seeing life this way. That’s who I am, probably why I became a photographer. Memories in Black + White, of places far away, the mystery of humanity, the possibilities of discovery, the chance to become part of a People’s Song.
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