
Ruriko-in, Kyoto. In June the water mirrors the green of the maples. Koi drift slowly beneath the surface; above it lie the shadows of maple, of cloud, and of oneself.
Photography is the other eye that runs beside the research — what the film keeps is the light of that day, the stillness of that pond. This eye is quieter than words.
For me, photography is a way of looking and of telling. For nearly thirty years it has run beside the research — one reaching in through words, the other through light.
The work falls into nine series: Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, Tideline, Landscape, Street, Xpan, and Silver Halide. Less a deliberate project than a record pushed along by light and the seasons.
Together they form a slow way of looking — quieter than words, warmer than data.