He began taking photographs in 1965. He had no training in photography or art, but by 1968, by familiarizing himself with some of the mysteries of those two disciplines, he had begun to make a few images which he felt partook of that magic that photography can, in certain circumstances, possess. He said, “Nothing since has come particularly easily, because when you are self-taught there are always meanderings, dead ends, false starts, and a great deal of bumping into yourself in the night.”  Having pretty much invented himself, he has no one to thank and only himself to blame. The advantage of such an approach is that one tends not to absorb too much of the dogma of teachers or traditions. One thing that he never learned to do is to stick to one identifiable personal style. Stylistic continuity can be a virtue, but it can also be a straitjacket, something he has never worn comfortably. What he has come to realize is that art is not a destination, it’s a journey. The best he can hope for is that the viewer will travel along and indulge him as he points out a few things along the way.