"Wow, have you heard Ornette play violin?"
-- Len Burnstein, 1965
Street photography began early for me, in my teens, before I had a name for it, as something that allowed me to record a scene or situation I encountered. But those early photographs were little more than visual notes on events; they did not convey what I had felt, what had drawn me to photograph them. They did not reflect my full experience of different places, seasons, times of day, of people, sound, and motion, the play of light on faces or buildings, any more than I could say what attracted me to jazz as a young man. Later, I encountered photographs and photo essays by people like Brassai and W. Eugene Smith, and began to realize that photographs were not just representations of what I saw, but were two dimensional records of all my sensations; the photographs a way for others to experience what I did. And I needed to think about it less, shoot pictures and experience what was around me.
My photography began as a casual activity, but became part of my own experience of places, events, moments. While I never have succeeded to my satisfaction in capturing in words how I experience a specific piece of music, photography has provided a means to capture, without words, moments meaningful to me, and to share them with others.