Lenses have served me not to find the truth, but to study its markings. For as long as I could see I have composed with light, and then with a camera. All deliberate speed, darkness illuminated then shuttered again, now charged, coupled, written—a shadow is fixed in pixels that incriminate my memory.
I’ve studied, written and taught about this, my medium. A PhD in photohistory gives me some kind of terminal credibility.