It is a fact that everything eventually becomes dust.  Anyone who has the experience of living in the high plains or desert faces this reality every day.  I have thought about this idea of impermanence and what it means to my lifelong passion for creating black and white images.  I don’t call them fine art.  They are simply the chosen edits of what I want to remember, the glimpses of what has inspired me.  They are my stories to tell.

One day they will become dust, pieces of cotton, wood pulp and broken down particles of silver dust for recycling and eventually be captured in a rare downpour to begin their journey back to an ocean somewhere.  

But not before I speak of how they came to be, how they extended and enriched my life and character on my path to becoming a better human being.  They are my gifts to me.


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