I make photographs because there are moments in life, and expressions I want to share.

My photographic language speaks with intimate detail, clarity and emotion. This is also how I approach life. My photographs are tributes to beauty in unusual places; sometimes they are discoveries that surprise. Perhaps that is because I have always placed value on things which others might consider valueless; or because I take delight in that which is often passed by without notice.

I find that beauty springs from contrast, or from the drama between light and dark, or old and new. Sometimes a simple intriguing texture captivates me. The poetry of the ordinary--the glow of simple, small pieces--stirs me. My eye is drawn to the intimate details that make up the whole. I press the shutter when I experience this intimacy.

The moments I capture in faces are like short films on paper. In the chaos of daily life, ordinary moments rush past us with rhythm, balance, and purity. These moments are rarely honored for their role in shaping us.

When you look at a photograph and hear trees bristling, or jazz notes; or when you smell the salty ocean air; or feel the wind blow over rocks or a train move. When you can taste a pomegranate or lemon, or when you feel the soft touch of a hand on yours just by looking at a photo--that's a good shot.

My journey with the lens--and, in fact, the daily living of my life--is about discovering and rediscovering meanings. My expression sometimes brings revelations that lead to harmony, to a memory, or toward understanding. When I take photographs, I better understand the world around me and who God is in my life. And as my camera expresses the subject, I also reveal myself. Not what I do, but who I am. Who I am becoming. It is not often recognized that the camera points in both directions.

This instrument takes me to, and teaches me about, both the world I see and the world imagined. It allows me to share the intimate details of the journey.