High in the Huangshan mountains in China, at mid-day, the clouds roll in enveloping the landscape in fog, obscuring much of the view, and creating a soft, mysterious enclosed space around the viewer. This spoke to me in a very personal way. As I photographed the mountain pines, they reminded me of ink brush paintings, which brought back memories of Asian landscape paintings, that, in turn led to making specific formal choices, that would give them an Asian reference.
Many of the images have fog, haze, clouds or water in them. This reflects my long-standing interest in focusing on interfaces of various kinds that come between the subject and the viewer, that serve to obscure and distort, hide and reveal. What in life can we ever see and know clearly?
For me, the photographs denote a personal, intimate space, as they recall moments in the past whose outlines have been softened by the passing of time and the haze of memory.
They are like secrets, and must speak softly.
