There is a fine line between photojournalism and story telling. One stretches the truth and the other tries not to.
My life has been so extraordinary at times that some people may comment that I must be lying and from those who are convinced, I am told that it must be worth writing down. I don't have anything to make up about myself and am probably indifferent to much of it. At times, I have lived out loud. I tell stories about myself, but I could be walking through a graveyard, a name will jump out and a story will pour out of me. It's like having a dream.
As a painter, I worked with juxtaposition and surrealism. In photography, I have played around in HDR and conceptual or composite work, but I feel like I have already been there and done it. There is so much of that style out there now that it bombards my senses -- and you have to know that it will last for only a day ( a "FAD"). I don't want my work to look like anything that is trending.
Black and white allows me to do more to reinterpret a scene or a subject to get it to translate to a vision I had.
Undeniably color screams at all of us. We can't deny it and sometimes you will see one of my subjects rendered in both mediums because I believed that they both told a slightly different story. That’s how we dream, sometimes in color, other times devoid of it.