Circling Back: Double Exposure as a Way of Seeing

Recently, a circling back occurred. Like a migrating bird—sometimes flying thousands of miles to return to a place of beginning—I found myself back at a place of discovery, years after first passing through it. Certain ways of seeing never leave us; they wait patiently for our attention.

My fascination with photography began in art college as a side pursuit, then receded as I committed to painting. The camera returned later—first to document my work, then quickly as a way of making art itself. Travel intensified the bond, and street photography became a passion. Equipment improved as the curiosity deepened.

Early on, while working with models in my studio, a mistake changed everything. In 2004, an unadvanced frame produced an unintended overlap—a happy accident. The images were dreamlike, resistant to easy labels, and charged with meaning. I remember the small thrill of recognition, the feeling that something generous and alive had entered the room, asking only that I allow it.

Historically, double exposure did not begin as an artistic strategy. In the early days of film photography, failing to advance the film caused two images to share a single frame. What appeared to be an error soon revealed expressive potential, and photographers began to use the technique intentionally. Two famous men in particular come to mind; Man Ray,  (American/French; August 27, 1890 – November 18, 1976) and Jerry Uelsmann, (American, June 11, 1934 – April 4, 2022).

At its core, double exposure allows two moments, spaces, or ideas to coexist. Rather than replacing one another, they merge—sometimes harmoniously, sometimes in tension. This is what draws me to the form. My work has long circled themes of memory, interior life, time, and the porous boundary between inner and outer worlds. Double exposure feels less like a trick and more like a visual philosophy, rooted in curiosity and wonder. The images feel like surrealist poems.

Ultimately, double exposure is less about technique than perception. It mirrors lived experience itself: layered, overlapping, incomplete. Past and present, figure and environment, thought and sensation—none exist in isolation. Double exposure makes that condition visible.

Many years passed while my creative energy flowed into other forms—painting, writing, design, graphics—while photography remained a steady undercurrent. Now, like migrating birds returning to a remembered place of sustenance and joy, I find myself once again in the quiet magic of double exposure. It feels timeless—less a return than a reunion.

For the time being.

With Fresh Eyes

 

Often it happens that after I have spent hours in an art museum, when I come out onto the street, I see life differently—as if everything before my eyes is a painting. This effect lasts intensely for a few minutes and then wears off. But for those first moments, I am in an entrancing altered consciousness and seeing with new eyes.



(The above two images are an example. The image on the right is by famed French expressionist Jean Dubuffet. His work is in museums around the globe. The image to the left is a photo I took on a street in Granada, Spain.)


Viewing abstract non-objective art is so abstrusely personal it can seem to be anything in ones mind’s eye. Later, with an opened imagination out on the street, cracks in the pavement or ripped posters or the blur of traffic becomes art; because that is the way we have been thinking and experiencing visually. It has happened to me many times.

The image on the left below is torn poster paper I spotted on a street in Amsterdam, Holland. The image on the right is a large painting by the famous American abstract expressionist painter, Franz Kline.

 

Sometimes photography and art are closely related. A giant of twentieth century photography, Man Ray is on the left, (below). Henri Matisse's work, is on the right. He also worked in Paris at the same time, but is known for his drawings and paintings.

 

I love art! It expands my vision and creates new ways for me to see the world—with fresh eyes.