Don’t get me wrong. I am utterly fascinated by the visual world, and we all know that light plays the staring role in that world. I care very much about the quality of light around me. God, you should see me when I visit friends and start clicking on and off lights, moving around lamps, and lecturing them on proper light bulb wattage. When I don’t like the lighting where I am, I feel I’m looking at someone with a huge piece of spinach in his teeth. It’s very distracting. But to me, when it comes to image making, subject matter and composition are the most important foundations contributing to a strong image. Whether the light glows or is dull or is harsh and contrasty, I see it as my job to use that light to create an impression of the feelings I experience in that place.

Without a doubt there is something truly mind-boggling spectacular about the light of the American Southwest. Now that light moves me. During the short time I was in Iceland, the light there had a similarly powerful effect on me. But I don’t have that kind of response to the light in the Bay Area. Visually, the thing I find most unique in the Bay Area is the fog. I love the fog. It is wonderful both as a mysterious, swirling visual element in itself, and it also affects the quality of light in interesting ways.