Frederick Sommer
[Photographer, b. 1905, Angri, Italy, d. 1999, Prescott, Arizona.]

 Art and accident are one. Art accepts what it finds. 
 My [photographs] are not pure: they are a seething wealth of imperfection. 
 Art is the splendor of reality before everything has become meaning. 
 Life itself is not the reality. We are the ones who put life into stones and pebbles. 
 Words represent images: nothing can be said for which there is no image. 
 Poetic and speculative photographs can result if one works carefully and accurately, yet letting chance relationships have full play. 
 There is nothing to see, nothing featured; what’s the matter with you? (Sommer’s summary of how others view his landscape photographs) 
 There isn’t a lot that can be done about taking a good photograph... You have to accept an involved set of circumstances. And this involved set of circumstances is extraordinary and great for the simple reason that you don’t understand it. 
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