A Life in Frames

Preserving a Photographer’s Legacy

Paris, 2008

For over thirty years, photography has been an integral part of my artistic journey. It began as an addition to my work as a fine artist and painter. Initially I wanted to simply be able to make high quality records of my artwork for preservation, advertising, and producing fine art prints. But soon, photography became another way to explore composition, light, and subject matter. Then in 2008, as I traveled around the world for one year, photography evolved from a complementary skill into a full-fledged passion. Especially street photography, where I found an immediate and raw way to capture the beauty, chaos, and humanity of everyday life. 

While travelling, I continued painting with supplies I brought. Making a painting took hours of concentration on one subject matter. I loved painting. Yet with so much to see in new countries that thrilled me to the core, I steadily evolved to photography, spending endless hours in the world at large, submersing myself in every aspect of it and making images by the thousands.

Angkor Wat, Cambodia, 2015

My background as a painter informed the way I shot photographs. Just as I approach a canvas, composing with an eye for balance, movement, and emotion, a street scene can be a symphony of gestures and expressions, frozen in time with the press of a shutter. The ability to make on-the-spot creative decisions became second nature. It was exhilarating—watching, waiting, anticipating, then capturing something ephemeral and turning it into something lasting. And I visualized what was before my eyes as a canvas to paint upon.

Paris, 2008

Over the years, I have lived in over thirty countries, and in that time, amassed an estimated 300,000 photographs. That number is staggering to consider, but each image is a thread in the larger tapestry of my life. Recently, at the age of 72, I’ve begun the painstaking process of backing up my digital archives—transferring files from aging hard drives to new ones. Several of my old hard drives have already failed, taking many images with them, so this act of preservation feels urgent.

Oaxaca, Mexico, 2023

The photos are all originally in color. Using software, I convert many of them to back & white. An essential difference in feeling between black & white and color photography is the way they evoke emotion and perception. Black & white strips an image down to its core elements—light, shadow, form, and texture—creating a timeless, often dramatic or nostalgic effect. It emphasizes emotion through contrast and composition, allowing the viewer to focus on mood and structure without the distraction. In contrast, color photography offers vibrancy and realism, capturing the full spectrum of life as the eye naturally sees it. It evokes different emotional responses through hue and saturation, bringing warmth, energy, or melancholy depending on the palette. For me, both styles have their place in storytelling, each offering a unique way to interpret and experience the world through images. I slightly favor black & white.

Rome, 2016

Angkor Wat, Cambodia, 2017

As I sift through the vast collection, I rediscover forgotten moments—glimpses of beauty, sorrow, humor, and wonder. There are countless gems among these files, tributes to my well lived life and a world well traveled. Now, with this rediscovery comes a renewed sense of purpose.

Florence, Italy, 2008

I don’t want these photographs to simply gather dust in digital vaults. I want to breathe new life into them—curate, create, and share them in a meaningful way. Perhaps it’s a book, a digital archive, or an exhibition. Maybe it’s a new project that blends writing and photography, weaving stories through images.

Luxor, Egypt, 2017

Whatever form it takes, I feel a deep responsibility to honor this work—both for posterity and as a service to humanity. Photography, at its best, is not just about capturing a moment but about revealing something timeless, something that connects us all. And so, as I embark on this next phase, I feel gratitude, knowing that the images are not just a record of where I’ve been, but a bridge to magic and wonder.

Artistic Synergy - A Rich Dialogue

For the last several years, the difference between Amy’s art and mine has been nothing short of stark. My wife´s work celebrates enchantment, natural connection, and storytelling, capturing the magic of life in bright colors and symbolism. My art embraces the spectral inevitability of death, portraying it as a journey and reminder of ultimate transformation.

Together, our styles create a rich dialogue: her vibrant, dreamlike imagery invites wonder and warmth, while my skeletal motifs—rooted in Oaxaca’s Día de Muertos traditions and European vanitas art—are a haunting meditation on mortality. The balance of light and shadow, joy, reverence and sense of fate, gives our studio, called Dos Venados, a unique and deeply meaningful identity. Our art isn’t just about individual expression—it’s a shared narrative of transformation, memory, and the cyclical nature of existence.

With Fresh Eyes

This past week, Amy and I, along with a friend visiting from our former hometown of Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA, set out on a much-anticipated road trip from our village outside Oaxaca, Mexico to the Pacific Coast. With Highway 175 stretching before us, we embarked on our scenic drive. We had been to the coast on the same route about a month prior and the newly finished highway was smooth, clean and fast. This time we were stunned to find heavy damage along the way. Rocks and earth slides slowed down our drive and left us in awe and trembling. Men working heavy machinery were tasked the huge job of clearing the damage. 

Our destination was Mazunte, a small coastal town known for its bohemian charm and laid-back energy. Nestled along the shore, Hotel Casa Ofelia became our sanctuary for three nights—a simple yet delightful hotel where the ocean itself seemed to breathe tranquility into every moment. Our days melted into a dream of sunlit waves, salty breezes, the lulling sound of crashing waves, and endless relaxation. Amy does not swim, but I went headlong into the surf when I could. The ocean there is dangerous for its forceful action and somewhat steep slope, so at least once I was warned by a lifeguard to only go in up to my knees. Fortunately there is another, spectacular and safe beach called San Augustinillo, just minutes away.

Mazunte has a way of slowing time. It attracts travelers, artists, and wanderers, all drawn to its eclectic, free-spirited atmosphere. To me, it has the feeling of Haight-Ashbury in San Francisco during the height of the hippie days in the late 1960´s. Very relaxed elemental people are on a permanent free-spirit groove. The ocean, ever-present, is guide—a steady force softening thoughts and smoothing away
lingering tensions. We found a new favorite restaurant, grabbed delicious local coffee, visited a marvelous Turtle Museum. Spent sunset time walking along the shore, watching the sky transform into a canvas of fiery colors.

By the time we packed up to leave, we felt renewed. Three nights in eclectic Mazunte had worked its quiet magic, offering us space to breathe, to be still, and to simply exist in the presence of the sea. 

The drive home was reflective and slightly strained with the landscape shifting once again. Then suddenly when we entered Oaxaca city I felt it—the warm embrace of home. The cobblestone streets, vibrant markets, and artistic soul welcomed us back. Charms we had momentarily left behind now felt even richer, layered with the peace we carried from the coast.

Sometimes, a journey is not about seeking something new but about stepping away just long enough to return with fresh eyes. Mazunte gave us that gift, and Oaxaca, in turn, received us with open arms.