I stand looking down from the edge of a water-filled granite quarry. A hundred years ago men cut and hauled blocks of granite while steam-driven pumps removed spring water that seeped in. Now, with the pumps gone, the quarry has become a giant vessel and I photograph human figures swimming just beneath the water’s surface.
The water is dark, apparently bottomless, with the figures suspended in space far above the abyss. The water’s surface is an ever-changing lens, responding with whirls, swells, and ripples to the figures’ motion. This thin, undulating, transparent interface between air and water transforms the solid, human form into a sensual, wavy, beautiful abstraction of the actual person.