Violent Landscape with Auto Wreck (Print) Photograph

One night, the artist, Karl Andre, drunk and more obnoxious than usual, responded to a silly question I asked about his art by saying ‘It is all in the work!” It was simple. Why probe an artists' intentions or mental state, when it is all there in what they do? One either gets it or does not. Since then, I have approached questions concerning my art and life with that bromide in mind. I graduated with high honors from MCAD. Knowing I was neither fit for the compromises of academia nor the desperation and compromises selling my art, I decided to make my money and compromises in advertising. Although good at what I did, the high points in my moneymaking career were due more to dumb luck and a strong stomach than any innate ability. Meanwhile, I continued to produce what was most important, my pictures—compromise free. Restraint and limitations are whetstones that sharpen my vision. I usually stick to one camera and one short lens. Only natural light is used. All sites are shot in situ; what is in front of the lens is never manipulated in any way. I am drawn to images that are vacant, derelict, and empty. No people are featured. I maintain that one can understand as much about the human condition by the environs people leave behind them as by looking straight into a human face. If my images have personal content, it resides more in the viewer than in the art. My pictures are meant to provoke a dialogue between the viewer and the image. This approach to looking at art requires an eye that is meditative and somewhat introverted. It requires a calm and receptive intelligence. As for the artists that I would thank, my influences are broad. Oddly, there are few photographers among them. A partial list includes Josef Albers, who found spirituality is in the simplest forms; Philip Pearlstein, a great human being, artist, and teacher; Georges Noel, who taught me that artists should be happy and unfussy; I. M. Pei, whose kindness and charm are depthless; Ben Shawn, who still owes me a six pack and whom I owe a great lesson in human dignity; Gregory W. Bitz, who showed me how to be an artist; Joost Baljeu, an insufferable ass, but significant influence; and, begrudgingly, Thomas Arndt, who taught me how to see through a lens. Still, it is all in the work. One either gets it or does not.