I was born on Long Island, NY and later grew up in Mexico, France and Belgium. When I returned to the States, I settled in Los Angeles.

In the late 80’s I worked at several major advertising agencies assigned to international and local clients as a Senior Art Director/Associate Creative Director. Before that, I worked as a graphic designer at the now-defunct Hearst newspaper, the Los Angeles Herald-Examiner.

When I retired from my 40-years in advertising, I returned to photography in a big way, in particular film photography since 2017.

I had a book published in 2020 by Regal House called The Purpose of Things, a collaboration with the late poet Peter Serchuk with 40 of my photos. Given it was released just before the pandemic lock-downs, it was a moderate success.

I have had my work exhibited in a number of virtual and physical group shows, won numerous awards and have been published in Dodho, SHOTS and All About Photo magazines.

ARTIST’S STATEMENT

I learned early that the world doesn't look the same from every angle — that light, composition, and meaning shift depending on where you're standing. That restlessness never left me.

Decades in advertising sharpened what travel started. As a Senior Art Director, I learned to read an image instantly — what it was doing, what it wasn't, where the tension lived. But advertising asks you to resolve that tension. Photography, I discovered, asks you to preserve it. When I returned to the medium seriously after retiring, I wasn't starting over. I was finally working without a brief.

My influences are less about photographers than about ways of seeing. Cartier-Bresson's decisive moment — but more importantly, his patience. Vivian Maier's unsentimental tenderness. Diane Arbus's refusal to look away. What connects them is a willingness to let the subject lead.

Shooting mostly on film since 2017 is not nostalgia — it's discipline. The finite roll slows you down and raises the stakes of each frame. My collaboration with the late poet Peter Serchuk on "The Purpose of Thing" clarified something important: that a photograph, like a poem, should hold more than it shows.