My photography has always been mood-driven. I may lean toward an illustrative look for a subject, but only to a point — then I deliberately step back. Photography, for me, is not about perfect description; it’s about expressing what is seen and what is felt. The mood of a place is as important as the subject itself.

I began photographing in 1952 when I received a Kodak box camera for Christmas and made my first three photographs that week. Film wasn’t cheap for a six-year-old, so I learned early to slow down and think before pressing the shutter — a lesson that has stayed with me throughout my life. In 1959 I added a Keystone KA-1 Electric Eye 8mm movie camera, and later a Polaroid Land camera in the late 1960s. While video and instant photography had their moments, still images were always where I felt most at home. By the early 1970s, motion picture work settled naturally into documenting home and family life.

My photographic path matured in the 1980s, first with Pentax and soon after with Nikon systems. Where I lived — and later the realities of physical mobility — quietly shaped what I photographed and how I approached a scene.

Across the decades, the guiding idea has never changed: mood comes first. I’m drawn to atmosphere, subtle light, and the feeling of being present within an environment. Whether working close to the forest floor, exploring intimate macro subjects, or photographing wildlife, I look for images that suggest rather than explain — photographs that invite the viewer to feel something rather than simply observe.

I don’t separate seeing from feeling. Photography is how I translate that experience into something that can be shared.