OLD & NEW ALCHEMY I like to think of my way of working with pinhole cameras as a kind of intuitive alchemy, a belief that controlled accidents can open a window to an unexpected way of seeing the world. Recently, by using a variety of toning and bleaching processes, I have been focusing on ways to make my prints look as if they have the ambiguous imprints of both past and present photographic styles. I want them to seem to have had a rich history and gathered the patina of a relic. Essentially I can't help messing around with chemical solutions hoping that this mysterious goo, which for me is a metaphor of the random influx of the larger world on our personal vision, can affect some enigma in my work that I am incapable of doing otherwise. I started doing photography about ten years ago when I was asked to teach photography at my school. I built my first pinhole camera about two years later when all my camera equipment was stolen.

PINHOLE PHOTOGRAPHY I devote a major portion of my time to pinhole photography. I also work with more conventional cameras somewhat unconventionally, such as making double exposures and exposing images while the camera is in motion. I am attracted to alternative ways in which cameras see the world. I am captivated with the almost endless ways one can construct pinhole cameras. I have always liked to make assemblages from found objects and discarded equipment. The process of making pinhole cameras, either from scratch or converting conventional cameras into pinholes, is for me an end in itself. If these cameras meet my expectations, great, but if not, I have learned something. I also like the look of these home made contraptions and whether working or not, I view them as rough and unassuming assemblages. I was trained as a painter and printmaker and became involved in photography when I was asked to teach a photography class at my school in 1986. I seem to have given up printmaking for photography. I have always found it a challenge to discover unique ties between different media. By modifying my finished photographs with bleaches and toners (applied both locally and totally), I feel I have transferred some my instinct for painting and drawing to photography. On the other hand, my paintings often involve photographs in one way or another. Since I have lived in cities most of my life I find that I am most attracted to images found in urban environments. I prefer to photograph places and objects we usually tend to overlook: corners or details of buildings, drain pipes, or trash on a roof. I also like to capture gatherings of friends or family, people at work or at a restaurant; images of people�s activities that can be recorded over an extended period of time. Recently I have begun searching for ways for my prints to look as if they have had a history, revealing the marks of human care and neglect over a long period of time. I want each photograph to look as if it has become a relic, leaving a map on its surface chronicling the signs of being cared for or neglected and the blemishes of being exposed to the whimsies of sun, weather and the seasons.

LOST AND FOUND Sometimes the worst of circumstances produce positive results. In 1988 all my camera equipment was stolen. I did not want to go cameraless for long. Having recently been introduced to pinhole photography, I decided to try to make my own pinhole cameras. I have been doing so ever since. I often work with a number of pinhole cameras in many formats but feel most comfortable with large the cylindrical pinholes I have made from Sona tubes. In these cameras I use 11" x 14" and 16" x 20" paper negatives. The positive images are made by contact printing these negatives. As an artist I have always been encouraged and been inspired by accidents and the unanticipated or chance happenings in my work. Whether building pinhole cameras or photographing with them, I am continuously surprised and often delighted by the degree in which elements of the unexpected and unanticipated play in creating a successful image. Pinhole cameras do not have a view finder or light meter. One must rely on intuition when composing an image and setting the often lengthy exposure time. I am also attracted the unique properties of pinhole photography such as a soft but infinite focus range and the ability to photograph on a curved plain. Intuition and the element of chance have become an indispensable part in my work with these cameras. I like to think that this often oblique way of making photographs creates images that map a mythic geography and oblique time which lie somewhere between the tangible world and the worlds we imagine or dream.

PAINTING PHOTOGRAPHY & INFLUENCES My work of the seventies and early eighties consisted mostly etchings, unique prints and miniature paintings primarily of visionary landscapes and imagined figures. This work was intended to resonate environmental concerns and posed a guarded optimistic view. By the mid eighties, like many artists, I felt the weight of a society that seemed on many levels, to become more and more one dimensional, driven primarily by a kind of exalted consumerism. I also reacted strongly to this governments turning a mostly blind eye to environmental issues. I became interested in making painting that indicated a long history of existence through highly manipulated surfaces. About that time I discovered photography and began to photograph details and common objects of the urban landscape with pinhole cameras. I found that by using alternative methods of photography I could create a new and intriguing geography of our everyday world. In September of 1991 I began a two year Fulbright research and teaching grant in Pakistan. I spent an exciting and fulfilling two years there teaching, giving workshops, painting, printmaking and photographing. I was deeply influenced by the art and artists there. I liked the narrative and sensuous quality of the Pakistani artists� work as well as their use of borders, which to me represented a world within a world. I had been searching for new directions and certainly found much in this rich culture to feed and free my work. Their influence continues to resonate both in my painting and photography.

NON NARRATIVE NARRATIVES Much of my work is suggestively narrative. I often see myself as an observer and recorder of a world that seems, for the most part, to be cryptic. I would encourage one to view my paintings and photographs much as one finds fascination in watching a group of animated strangers from a distance. Being somewhat familiar with the meaning of these strangers' gestures and body language and able to hear snippets of conversation, but not able to discern the full story, we must concoct a scenario from the clues we have received and add the rest from our imagination.

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