Photography is an interest of mine. I have been pursuing this interest for about a decade now. I have to my credit no formalized training except that my twin brother was a painter and everything I do know about photography, arguably, is taken from that. This is not to suggest that photography is like/equal to/superior/inferior to painting. Both are different sorts of follies. Beautiful follies, although doomed–since both try to capture a feeling and make it more visible to the world. Yes, at best a dubious task. A noble task. But I know a person who knits beautiful caps and other things and I think this is quite noble too, and certainly also part of the larger aristocracy of human activity. Mostly my photographs are about places that are empty of people. I find solace in such places. I once was asked to take pictures at a wedding of someone I knew only as an acquaintance. I had advised against it, given the fact that I was probably the worst person for such a job. But I did give fair warning and I did try my best but have you ever noticed how many lonely people there are at weddings? Truly lonely people? Or, rather, unhappy people? It’s a sad omen but one you can’t resist trying to photograph. I don’t believe I’ll ever be asked again, I’m afraid. And that’s a good thing.
