[Photographer, b. 1942, Wichita Falls, Texas, lives in Southborough, Massachusetts.]
I see the experience of pictures as a kind of cycle, a kind of circular motion in which you’re in the world, then you enter the picture and you’re in a different world (it’s not the same as the one you live in, but recognizable as one you might live in). And then you’re returned to your world with an enlarged sense of its possibilities.
When a photographer chooses a subject, he or she is making a claim on the interest and attention of future viewers, a prediction about what will be thought to have been important.
Photography, too, reduces the world to strips and rectangles; photographers scrutinize the surfaces of reality in hope of unlocking the potential for significance that is latent within them.
Whatever the aspect, I’ve tried to provide clear witness to what I’ve found, to resonate well enough with the harmonics of the place that the tuning can be felt in the pictures.
The documentary style is an incredibly flexible and useful one. It’s a wonderful tool for establishing the credibility of the version of things that’s in the photograph—a kind of rhetorical device or rhetorical strategy. It’s always felt very natural to me, because I want a person to end up thinking about the world, and to think about it in a way that is transformed by the experience of art.