Growing up, in what was then rural Long Island, I spent a lot of time camping in the woods. I imagined myself as a modern Huckleberry Finn living the spirit of adventures through my favorite author Mark Twain. Growing up on Long Island in the 50s and 60s was as great as it sounds. I grew up around the campfire that was America. I learned to love the craft of storytelling about events that we were part of were witness to. I was a typical baby-boomer: athlete and surfer turned hippy. I was restless to see the world and busted out early, went to Woodstock, Chicago Democratic Convention and then hitchhiked across the United States to California, twice. My love of storytelling and appreciation of history fueled my desire to describe what I was seeing, this combined with the lack of any real talent as a writer led me to take up the camera in the mid 1970s. Photography was my ticket. A built-in excuse to wander the streets of New York, travel and explore. The camera was my passport to places I would never have gone. During the 1980s I traveled through Central America ten times and photographed the revolution in Nicaragua. I still have lifelong friendships from that project. Working on construction brigade, picking cotton and living for months in the Barrio gave me insight and empathy and some of the best photos I’ve ever taken. One thing I am not comfortable with is the title of artist. I barely know what art is. But i do appreciate beauty whether it’s in the sky or in a piece of furniture. I much prefer the title of an artisan or craftsman. I love building things by hand, especially when making something unique and one of a kind. The current project is focused on life in Bushwick, Brooklyn, and the evening skies around sunset. Even that idea is evolving into a vision of birth and rebirth. The sky belongs to all of us and I’m happy to share what I’ve seen.