1987–1994 · 34 frames
River Towns
Small cities along the Mississippi and Ohio rivers, caught between what they were and what they were becoming. Grain elevators, diners, Friday night football.
Through the lens
People and places...
1987–1994 · 34 frames
Small cities along the Mississippi and Ohio rivers, caught between what they were and what they were becoming. Grain elevators, diners, Friday night football.
1995–2003 · 28 frames
Portraits of people who make things — welders, bakers, mechanics, musicians. The hands tell the story the face won't.
2004–present · 51 frames
The hour before dark. Landscapes, mostly — but sometimes a street corner, a kitchen window, a parking lot at closing time.
I picked up my first camera the same year I picked up a bass — 1976, give or take. Both were accidents. A friend left a Pentax at my apartment and never came back for it.
Film slows you down. You get thirty-six frames and then you have to stop and think. That constraint turned out to be the whole point. I'm not a photographer who shoots thousands of frames hoping one works. I'm a bass player who takes pictures — I wait for the groove.
Most of these were shot on Tri-X or HP5, developed in my bathroom, printed in a darkroom I rented by the hour from a community arts center in St. Louis. The digital stuff came later. I still prefer the grain.
I'm not selling prints right now, but I'm always up for a conversation about photography, music, or the places where they overlap.