Lhasa 2006
Everest 1982
I’ve been taking photos since I can remember. Which isn’t saying much. Actually the first photo of mine that was commercially published (meaning, I got paid) was in 1982, a picture of Everest from the Rongbuk Glacier in Tibet. The picture on the left was also taken in Tibet, in 2006, by my cousin George. Those look like welding goggles but I believe they are motorcycle goggles.
Observing Life
World's longest train ride, 2000
I’ve been fascinated with people, places and things for quite some time. And I believe the best way to feed that fascination is to get out into life and see, feel and experience it. It could mean an afternoon walking through the market. Or just keeping the camera in the back seat of the car should something interesting or quirky present itself. Often, though, it requires some pre-meditation (as do many things in life), in order to facilitate what I call “spontaneous life observation.” For example, spending six months to prepare for an epic (and I don’t use that word frivolously) 30-train journey from the equatorial South Pacific to the European Arctic.
On The Road to Janaidar, 1987
Around the World 2005
Or two years to organize an expedition of fellow vivants to travel to, then climb, a peak in western China – then ski back down it. Or grabbing my four kids, arming them with point-and-shoots, and blasting off on a frenetic, 28-day start-and-skid-stop tour of the world.
Spontaneous life observation can also be jump-started by, well, jumping into a car and heading down the highway. We Americans call it the “road trip” but I am more attracted to the Australian aboriginal “walkabout” because of the spiritual component. Either way, there is something divinely primal, purifying, and cleansing about heading out into the unknown or even into the familiar – for both will always reveal a chaotic blend of the familiar and the strange.
No Exit, 1973
Idarado Mine, Telluride, 1974
For me, it all started on the day after graduation from high school in 1973, when two friends and I embarked on our own super psychotic version of On The Road, the “mother of all road trips,” one that Kesey himself would have declared demented. We careened and careered 25,000 miles in two short months and we distilled it all down to just two steadfast rules: no stopping in any one place for more than 24 hours, and no maps allowed. We printed up embossed business cards with our company name “No Exit Productions” and our raison d’etre for the summer, “If you ride you pay the fare.” If only we had digital cameras back then.
Instead, my “Qamera” – the portal of observation – was a small portable typewriter. And somewhere in my archives is the manuscript. I’m afraid to look at it. But who knows. Excerpts of that and other journeys might very well find their way into Qamera as stray snippets, fractured recollections, or more structured philosophical treatises. Okay maybe not the latter. Well, maybe the odd flash of brilliance, even if it is coincidental.
In the meantime, I hope that you, dear reader, will enjoy this ongoing project. I plan to keep it fairly fresh with a constant flow of material – and if past history is any judge, that should not be difficult to achieve. I hope these visual and verbal vignettes will broaden your own perspective by giving you a different take – one person’s editorial – of life. If you do nothing more than walk away even just potentially inspired to go out and see some of the world yourself, then I will be extremely happy.
Read, observe, comment, and always question. Tread lightly, and respect everyone.
