I’ve admired simplicity in art, design, writing—and pretty much everything—since I was eight years old. In 1959 I was enthralled by the iconic Volkswagen "Think Small" ad: white page, small black-and-white photo of a VW bug, the two-word headline, a few words that got right to the point with no fluff, and the logo. Nothing else was needed. Within weeks or months of this, I happened upon Oriental ink-brush art. I was captivated by how much can be expressed with so little. Again, nothing else was needed. It seemed to bypass thought and go to pure emotional response. These inspirations changed my life by defining a minimalist aesthetic.

In addition to the above my influences have tended to be those who have worked in pigments more than those who have worked in photons, film, and pixels. John Constable, JMW Turner, Claude Monet, Georgia O’Keeffe, and Mark Rothko occasionally whisper in my ear while I’m working. Photographic inspiration comes from the Westons and Michael Kenna, among others.

My work is intentionally quiet. I don’t create stories; I create space. The intention is to make photographs that can be explored, absorbed, rediscovered, and enjoyed for a long time.

These horizons stem from a lifelong fascination with the division between sea and sky and the division between sharp and subtle tonal contrasts. The first time I saw an ocean horizon (also at age eight) I wondered if it was really the curvature of the earth I was seeing or just an illusion. That question has long since faded, but I have been drawn to the horizon ever since.

The horizon is something you can rely on. It is stable. A focal point. Ancient mariners used the horizon as a source of stability and orientation. For me, looking out at that line for anything more than a quick glance has a calming effect, bringing order to a turbulent physical or emotional environment. As it pulls me toward it, it creates space. And silence. That is the ultimate purpose of this work.