When I was five or six years old, my dad put his DV camcorder in my hands for the first time. He didn't realize it but the tiny, pixelated, black-and-white screen in the viewfinder of that camera lit a spark in me. I have memories of taking that camcorder and making short narratives with foundational visual elements. There was something about manipulating shapes, tones, things, and subjects from my three-dimensional world into a confined, rectangular, two-dimensional frame.  It was magical and inspiring. 

Except for a brief and focused career in track cycling, I've had (at least one) camera in my hands ever since that day. At first, I wanted to be a filmmaker. I loved taking my ideas and seeing how they came to fruition on the screen, but I was missing something crucial- technical knowledge. I took up still photography at 17 after I had dropped out of high school. I was lucky to have good mentors, including the most technically proficient photographer I have still ever met.

Something about the missing information of a photograph took my heart. There's no sense of time in a photograph beyond what is in the photo; all a photograph ever really says is that this scene did happen at some time. The rest is up to the viewer to fill in or leave blank.