That tension between expectation and what actually happens is where all the fun is.
I saw myself bridging New Objective German photography and Pictorialist staged melodrama.
Fletcher Hanks was a prolific cartoonist for a brief period in the late 1930s and early 1940s.
The mistrust of images is at the foundation of everything I do.
It is hard to resist the metaphor of the funnel cloud as the capricious finger of God.
The Traceur is the dream of anarchism modestly manifest.
How do we distinguish revelation from delusion?