Retracing Mark Twain’s 1861 journey across Utah’s alkali desert.
An online project which became a 53′ scroll. “There is no end of wholesome medicine in such an experience.”
Working at high altitudes, photographs as emotional objects. A gallery show and an artist's book.
In 1999, I dreamed I was drifting over the Bowery at sunset. The street was covered by a red fog laced with yellow-orange fumes.
The language of this small paradise exists for us to happen upon in future days or to reflect on in former. For the visitor, the cold moment is a negotiable foray into fiction and found territory.
The digital Ocean has been my ongoing project since 2000. It is a real-time, physics based, interactive manifestation of the ocean.
Sometime around 2001, I decided I was a landscape photographer. No more birds, just the land. And an odd seal.
Drifting in New York, and a few other places. A getting-the-feet-back-on-the-ground effort.
Those were the days! Traveling in the car West then East. Drifting to and from the darkroom, printing evening after evening.
I made it speak extemporaneously: as it came up with new words it spoke them, then forgot them.
This is a game of theatrical self-revelation. The cards assume the emotional damage and self-doubt of the players. Win by charming the other players with your anguish.
Trying to Learn to Say the Same Thing
This was the "first NY art show". It wasn't really called "trying to learn..." It didn't have a title, but that was what I'd been wanting to call it if I could've gotten up the guts, so I'll pretend it is the title.
In 1995 Reuben Margolin and I drove to Labrador in a 1980s subcompact car. We brought along two cases of wine and some whiskey. Reuben brought his notebook and I brought my camera.