In the Air

I am a voyeur. I love watching people going about their business, playing, walking, dreaming, loving, alone in their thoughts, and immune from their world. This is a moment when they are in harmony with their surroundings, pure, naked, unaware and honest. Occasionally my photographs can be absent of people, but hopefully there is still a personal presence to them, as if somebody was once there but has moved on. For me, they are both the same. I usually shoot randomly, without any preconceived plan of what I wish to photograph —waiting for the spontaneity, watching, anticipating, until the image appears before me. If I consciously look for something specific, it will never happen, everything will always be invisible to me. However, when I wander, with a receptive heart, breathe, watch, and wait, opportunities open up to me. I have always thought that my photographs say as much about myself as what I am seeing. Good photographs are alive—magnetic, pulsating, passionate, and soulful. Softly speaking to me in low whispering voices—telling me something about myself, telling a story, or revealing to me something about what I am viewing. Never silent, photographs have rhythm, and movement—they are impulsive, personal, and and spontaneous. A scene unfolds, in a split-second it is frozen—captured, and then poof, it is gone, never to appear again.