Where Time Stands Still

O

nce, on a walk, I saw these Doctor Suess-like trees. You know, “Green Eggs and Spam,” “The Cat in the Hat.”

Well, maybe. I always thought “The Cat in the Hat” was about Miles Davis. He wore hats most of the time. He certainly was a cat. With a trumpet. He changed music five or six times as he once said to a woman who questioned his reason for being at an awards banquet. He looked at her and said, “I have no reason except that I changed music five or six times. What did you do?”

But, that’s not what this post is about. It’s about this picture. It’s an attempt to change my thinking and seeing. I’ll tell you this, the more I work this way, the more I think this could be a mistake.

The more I study, I feel that I have already found my way and if a certain group of photographers known only to each other think something else, too bad for them. Their loss. Their ingrown version of art.

In another decade will they matter? Will I?

If I stay true to myself will I matter?

I think so.

At least, to myself.