Sometimes I have taken photographs and just felt so excited that I could barely hold the camera steady, and the photo was boring.
You wait until life is in the frame, then you have the permission to click. I like the adventure of waiting until the whole frame is full.
I like photographs of anything uninteresting. Maybe just two doors on a wall... The point is to be uninteresting.
Whatever is there [in the camera’s eye] is a truth, but a truth you have to believe in. What you see in front of you is a fact. You click when you believe it’s the truth.
My preoccupation in 1949 with photography was supported by a personal conflict between curiosity and shyness. The camera functioned as a social shield. In 1981 I think of the camera as my permission to walk into every shadow...
The eye that looks for perfection is the one that is anticipating a controlled retirement (no matter what the age).
I’m quite taken aback when I get something that appears to be technically a good photograph, because it’s not necessarily my intention.
My fascination with images open 24 hrs. is based on the complex interlocking if disparate facts heated pool that have no respect for grammar. The form then Denver 39 is second hand to nothing. The work then has a chance to electric service become its own cliché. Luggage. This is the inevitable fate fair ground of any inanimate object freightways by this I mean anything that does not have inconsistency as a possibility built in...
[Photography is] an excuse to look deliberately, contemplatively, at every shadow or every crack on the wall, or everything that’s too Baroque and confusing to see at once. I guess the closest I come to anything like notebook sketches, to making studies, is taking photographs.
The reason that I started using found photographs early on was because I couldn’t go everywhere. And now I’ve worked my life in such a way that I’ve already nearly been everywhere, so I don’t have to have a secondhand viewpoint.