In the summer in 1968, my father brought home a Nikon 35mm camera, and I doubt he knew the journey he had set me on in that instant. I spent the next three months image-hunting all over Palo Alto, and then ventured further North in the Bay Area, making frequent day trips to the Pacific Ocean, and up the peninsula to Golden Gate State Park. I was burning through roll after roll of Tri-X film. My first darkroom was crammed into a tiny upstairs bathroom. I learned to
print on a rickety Omega enlarger. The bathtub substituted as a darkroom sink. The enlarger rested on the lid of the toilet, and bath towels served to block the light from streaming through the window and from under the door. Developing photographs was not only hypnotic, but also
proved to be transformative for me as a young man. In the fall when I returned to school in Sandy Spring, Maryland, I held my first solo exhibition.



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