I’m most comfortable taking pictures on the streets of New York City.

In my work there are three sides to the story I’m trying to tell, mine, the people I photograph and what I hope to convey to the viewer, which is the expressive nature of the city. I try to curate the streets for my own personal orchestra of color, glances, gestures, and the unique solitude that hangs in the air – and try to make the viewer feel what I did when the picture was seen for the first time, before it was captured.

Weaving together passing reflections, coincidences, body language, which is unique to the people on the street because they tell me as much as I show the viewer. Manhattan is endlessly horizontal, vertically sprawling, concrete - its beauty is often found somewhere between the searing loneliness of the day-to-day goings on and the urgency of what’s next.

I like being alone and look for those odd convergences and sometimes cross the street to capture them. I stand right next to the people I photograph. If I appear in a reflection even better because then I become part of the action and I’m no longer alone. I’m inside the frame with what I see. The people around me slip and slide from one thing to the next, and I catch them when they wait for traffic, smoke a cigarette or collect their thoughts. Those precious in-between seconds.  

I haunt certain spots, Soho for one, where I still try to find the 1980’s charm that I recall from my youth - the places have changed, but not the people. Mid-town is brutally cold and hard, buttoned up and all business, whereas the East/West Village seem to be spilling out onto the streets with a youthful carelessness. The New York City that I love is still there, and I capture it as often as I can, sometimes I have to look hard to find it. I know the viewer will feel the love that I do for a city that never stops changing.