A photograph is both a way of seeing and a way of remembering. A problem arises, however, when we lose touch with the immediacy of our own seeing and begin to rely on the image, the photograph, to see the world for us. At the center of any photograph is the sheer cold weight of mentality, and yet how many of us would rather stay within the precincts of this mentality than experience the active sensuality of the world itself, the whirling and jumping world which our photographs, only in a timorous way, replicate. How many of us cannot see what is in front of us until we have photographed it, and then, with our cameras in our hands, haven't we let something get away?