To see yourself in art is one thing, to feel yourself is an entirely different beast.

There is a song called “The Only Living Boy in New York” on folk duo Simon and Garfunkel's 1970 album Bridge Over Troubled Water. Although Paul Simon uses the name ‘Tom’ in the song, his lyrics are directly inspired by Art Garfunkel’s time shooting the film Catch-22 (1970) in Mexico. Using characteristically self-existentializing lyrics, Simon laments Garfunkel’s brief departure from their native New York. I cannot completely relate to this song, as I have not been abandoned in New York City by my musical partner and life long friend, but I find that the lyrics and melodies still resonate; even 55 years later. I implore you to find “The Only Living Boy in New York” wherever you listen to your music. Pay attention to the entire song, yes, but particularly focus on minutes 1:38, 2:20, 3:11, and 3:42. This refrain — Here I am… Here I am — astounds me everytime I hear it. 

I feel as though the chamber door has been smashed open and, for the first time ever, sunlight finds my face. I am reborn through this simple phrase; this angelic harmony. 

I make photographs because I want to. Although I suppose at this point I have crossed the line from want into need. Art unscrambles my brain. The truth is, life dizzies: What is this? Who are I? When was? Why do-? Can-? If-? Photography slows things down. My camera — and the photos I make with it — offer a different way of seeing. I prefer to shoot on film because digital cameras only confuse me more. Additionally, developing and printing my own photos allows me to work with my hands, further unscrambling the world. My work is a way of doing. It is also a way of giving; A way of asking — “hey do you get it?” In showing others my photography, I am seeking understanding. I am unveiling small sections of my unscrambled self. Here I am. And — if I’m lucky — they will feel themselves. Here I am.