My alternative view portfolio represents my oldest work. I actually began seeing in this way at the age of 8 when my father first loaned me his Argus C-3 rangefinder camera. When all the other kids were making pictures with new color films from Kodak, I was out in the back yard with black and white film exploring shape, form, and texture. I will not torture the viewer with those images, but suffice to say they were my earliest explorations with abstraction and conceptual images. Several themes or ribbons of thought flow through my newer ‘alternative view’ work.

Andy Goldsworthy was my inspiration for images dealing with arranging natural objects in a natural environment. I am fascinated by what I can create using found objects from different environments. Case in point for my images of acorns arranged on a beach: the acorns are from eucalyptus trees grown in Carlsbad, California, and the beach is near Tofino, British Columbia. How else would these natural objects meet?

Exploration of the concept of time and how it can be portrayed as a dimension in visual art is the theme of other works in this portfolio. What I love about time and the camera as an instrument is that a wide spectrum of possibilities can be represented. While our eyes see ‘the instant’ or many instants in a virtual continuum, the camera can see a time slice 1/10 millionth of a second, or many hours. How else would we be able to see such visions from the ephemeral to the protracted?

The third category of work I am exploring in ‘alternative views’ are those that abstract context away. Context can sometimes obscure a central or focused beauty. I wish to bring the viewer ‘in’ to see without the distraction of context. Often they will have more comfort knowing the context, so I leave clues in the image to direct them, without obscuring the heart of the image.

I plan to continue expanding this body of work and see the possibilities as virtually endless.

What did he or she look like in life? This is how they wish us to remember them. It's from a high point in their life -- a wedding photo, childhood or young adult portrait, photo proudly displaying their uniform, or recording some other memory for them. Their surviving loved ones care enough about this lasting image to make it a permanent fixture on their memorial marker. The pictures seem to say "Remember Me -- not just who I was or what I did, but what I looked like as well".

The eyes tell the story. Some portraits show pride. Others depict a certain worldliness. Some are just plain haunting, such as those of a young boy who died before he was able to fully experience life. Some include clues into significant life events, like the young man in uniform with campaign hat worn at a jaunty angle, or the young couple early in marriage. The pictures themselves are usually surrounded by beautiful decoration carved into stone, along with their name and date of birth / death. While the stone carving will last for centuries, these fragile portraits often have physical deteriorization from the forces of nature or the hand of man, included in my portraits for context. I also choose to include reflections in the glass covers of the images, as they are part of these portraits viewed in their tranquil environment by loved ones or others who come to visit.

For display, my portraits are crafted with the noble metals platinum and palladium, a method keeping with the style popular during the late 19th and early 20th century when these individuals lived. A period border element frames the portrait in a manner one would find in a treasured family album. These portraits honor the memory of these dear departed souls as they speak out "Remember Me".

I am drawn to the cross by forces I cannot fully explain. In 1997 I embarked on my first major photographic exploration. It was then, behind the ground glass of a view camera, that I was first attracted to the cross as a photographic subject. The cross engaged me as an element in architecture and in other usage where it was a commanding component. I could not rationalize the attraction, but it was there and it was powerful.

Following my instinct instead of a logical mind, I began to seek out crosses that showed diversity in form and purpose. Looking deeply, I found I could capture such diversity through illustration of the cross as a memorializing icon and as a primary ritualized constituent, often within an architectural context. Thus far, my explorations in search of crosses have ranged from remote villages to cities and towns across America, Europe, and Asia. I love that the form or shape of the cross can vary widely, born of rough-hewn wood, stone, gilded metal, or other materials. Whether new or old, each cross has definite purpose that stands a test of time.

The cross, while depicted physically in many variations throughout the world, has a uniformity of purpose at a basic level: spiritual inspiration. I like that the cross has commonality of purpose and usage across otherwise diverse cultures. For example, I discovered scenes in Minneapolis, Guanajuato and Iona that if taken out of immediate context are indistinguishable by locale. The cross has yielded great spiritual power for millennia, to those who tap into it.