Welcome to my schizophrenic photostream - thanks for stopping by.

In 1990 I went off to the desert Southwest to be a park ranger. Just before I left I said to my father - the photo teacher - "Shouldn't I have a real camera?" So he handed me his old Nikon FM with a 28-70mm Vivatar zoom, and a Kodak pocket book on how to use an SLR. I made it up as I went along. Someone said, "Shoot slides," so I shot slides, even though all I could see of my results was what I got holding them up to the sun. But the landscape I was suddenly immersed in was the most incredible thing I had ever seen, and I couldn't stop taking pictures - I had a lot of happy accidents.

A few years later I was back in the city working as a software engineer, and forgot that I had ever known how to look at the world with wonder. Fast forward several years - I'm back in school studying technical theater. The Intro to Design teacher sends us out to take pictures of the basic design elements. I wander around the neighborhood entranced, with my camera pressed as close as I can get to moss, tree trunks, bricks, with surprising (to me at least) results. Dad says, "Well, I've got this lens you might want to try..."

So bit by bit I'm scanning some of the more successful slides from way back when. Technically they leave a lot to be desired, but if I've put them up here it's because I feel like there's some merit that accompanies their great sentimental value. The desert scenes are all from 1990-92.

The macros are representative of more recent work. I've been stalled for a while and am trying to kickstart myself back into action.

For the most part, I'm still using that completely manual FM and film (Velvia). Recently I inherited a Minolta DiMage7i - Dad upgraded - and I've been having fun playing with that, but you just can't keep me away from my macro lens.

About that screen name: when there were 3 big fuzzy dogs and me spending a lot of time in the cab of my truck, I dreamed it up to go on a license plate. I never got the plate, but one day I needed a unique login name somewhere or other. And it's stuck, 'cause you know what? It's never ever taken.