I Love The Winter. Well, I Love

Once The Fired Stone Is Out Of The Kiln, It Is Still Possible To Mentally Reconstruct It In Its Original Form.

It's Frightening And Unnerving To Watch A Stone Melt.

I Knew The Tree When It Grew, And The Tree Is Now Gone. The Farmers Cut It Up, And It's Become Firewood. And There's This Tremendous Sense Of Absence And Shock And Violence Attendant To That Collapsing Tree.

Photography Is A Way Of Putting Distance Between Myself And The Work Which Sometimes Helps Me To See More Clearly What It Is That I Have Made.

Snow Provokes Responses That Reach Right Back To Childhood.