Questions have been at the root of my artwork since I began to photograph. They have taken me everywhere: Where is it quiet? What is the difference between waiting and standing or sitting? What if for everything you took in, you gave something away? Do you go when it’s time to go? Do you stay? Always asking and not so much in a search for answers, more a fascination with the process of understanding.

What does a church feel like when it is filled with the sounds of shredding on a violin? How much of someone is caught in a portrait– are they distilled or stretched in the process? Which do you prefer, to inhale or to exhale? Or is it the space between breaths that gets your attention... What is a photograph of grace: a dancer on her toes in a moment of exquisite suspension... A few lines of black ink on green film... A pair of 73 year–old hands bowed in reverence for a bowl of tea?

There is a moment just before a question forms into words. I would like to see it.