In 2010, at the beginning of two back to back around the world trips, I stopped over in Los Angeles to say my last goodbyes to my ex-graduate advisor who was dying of pancreatic cancer,. On the day before my departure from him, he insisted that I buy a camera to send him photographs so that he could share in my journey. He died a few months later, but I still shoot with him in mind. He and many others are constant reminders that we don’t live forever, that each photograph, whether taken or missed in the passing, is precious.

I like to take shots of light and shadow in their various manifestations, for their revelation and obfuscation respectively, both of which are part of some obscure blend of an entirety, a whole. Light, in those provident instances, reminds me, often with surprise, that I am given the gift of being alive while shadow similarly but in opposition belies the fact that something is always omitted from the frame, implied but not fully known.

I also like to shoot portraits of animals, preferably in the wild but in captivity as well. My intention is to capture a moment that gives me a glimpse of their inner workings, of how they experience living on this shared planet. I know that I cannot withdraw my perspective from the frame, but I hope through some feat of magic that I can relinquish control, if only for a second, to see a hint of the beyond, of the independent life that runs uniquely universal through each living being and with which I resonate as part of that family. I take photos of children and young adults with a similar intention, in hopes that I record something of their immediacy before they fall into the necessary but jaded habit of filtering their perceptions.

After being somewhere else, it is always strange but welcome to come home. In those places that I call ‘away’, I am forever attentive to the nuances of what goes on around me. The challenge of course is to maintain that awareness when living the mundane and familiar. In that way, a camera in hand is as good as a ticket on a plane to the remotest of places. I like to keep a small one in my pocket to shoot accidents and incidents while only making minimal intrusions. I also enjoy the power of distance by taking landscapes and seascapes that provide scope to my vision and a sense of place that comes not only from the widest of angles but also from the minute particulars that give each moment and location a distinct identity.

Both to my good fortune and dismay, I have always been a generalist with a plethora of interests and fascinations. I sometimes don’t finish what I start so photography has been a blessing. I take a shot, run it through process editing, and there it is, a brief reminder that I am still alive and ticking, a piece of me and not me that I can share with anyone that is interested.

In the last many years, I have shared three places that I can call home, the South Island of New Zealand, Alaska, and the Pacific Northwest. Photographing in these areas has kept me constantly surprised at what might appear unexpectedly often out my front window. The flip side of this surprise, I suppose, is a state of openness to chance encounters that remind me that I know little and understand less of the world around me, that humility and wonder are the appropriate responses to being here alive for what seems like a very short time.

In the last year, my photographs have appeared in various websites, including The Huffington Post, Seattle PI, Houston Chronicle, among several others. It is noted in my website that some of my photos are temporarily contracted to Getty Images and are subject to the restrictions therein, though may still be purchased as numbered fine art prints even so.

As my exclusive property, my images may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, transmitted, manipulated or used in any way without my expressed written permission. If you are interested in printing or licensing images or commissioning a project, please contact me with your specific requirements on my email: jlberkow@yahoo.com.