My photographs were not taken with anything in mind beyond that what I was seeing was interesting. There was a vague feeling though; one of wonder. And as I wondered about the wonder of what I was seeing, I also wondered what the camera would see.
My photographs of the woods were rarely the same as what my eyes had seen.
Cape Cod woods are a tangle of trees mostly, which the camera can not quite capture correctly it seemed.
But color and form on the ground sticks out amidst the blends of forest floor, and kept attracting my gaze.
Reds, whites, and yellows, rounds on top of stalks, were obvious choices for the camera.
Within the water I saw memories of childhood — larvae and tadpoles swimming above decaying leaves. Waterbugs on the surface caught my eye.
Then I noticed that with one eye closed the water looked different.
Through one eye I saw the surface refections — the sky and trees. And the wind too could be seen as it touched the water's surface, bending and warping what was seen.
All at once I was seeing the above, the surface and the below.




