What I see—what I saw, when I went zooming by on a county live road in DeKalb—may have as much to do with my inner camera as with the camera in my hands. A tree in the far distance, a flat horizon, an enormous, cloud-streaked sky. Ordinary elements of composition, striking enough to me. Are you taking the same picture when you stop? I wonder how much of a photograph is created internally, the mechanisms of desire and memory and aesthetics developing in their own private darkroom. What matters to me about an image beyond composition, the aesthetics of the photograph, and the various digital filters—my personal stake, how or why I'm moved—that's a dark semi-private lane. I may or may not see you there.
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Overheard:
In my view you cannot claim to have seen something until you have photographed it. (Emile Zola)
You don't take a photograph, you make it. (Ansel Adams)
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