People keep intriguing me. Perhaps because I never fully understand them. You can look at someone and think you know who is standing in front of you. Until something happens. A glance, a movement, a silence. Something small that suddenly makes you see them differently. That is where photography begins for me. Not with the idea of making a beautiful portrait, but with curiosity. Who are you? What do you reveal? What do you keep to yourself? And what happens when, for a moment, we both forget there is a camera between us.

I have been a maker all my life. I paint, draw, photograph, and have spent years creating and shaping images and ideas. All of these worlds have formed the way I see. Light, form, composition and feeling have become inseparable to me. But photography gives me something I cannot find anywhere else. I can begin a painting with an empty canvas. A drawing with a blank page. But when I make a portrait, suddenly there is another person standing in front of me.

Someone with a life I do not know. I can choose the light. The place. The frame. I can direct and shape what happens. But the image I am ultimately looking for cannot be invented. It has to happen. Perhaps that is why I keep returning to people. Why I keep looking at faces. At eyes, hands, gestures, and all the things that are difficult to put into words. Not to figure someone out. But to get close enough to catch a glimpse of something. And then press the shutter.