Hot summer nights, mid-July …


Since departing my journalism career a few years ago, I set aside the tools of my trade that I’d always kept in arm’s reach – pens (scores of them) and the thin reporter’s notebooks. It helped in the separation, not to feel like any thing in my everyday life had the potential of being a story.

I kept my camera, though, and taking photos has become my creative outlet. I live in the White Mountains, so I do not have to wander far to find a subject, but I also like to just go somewhere and shoot buildings and barns and whatever is in the moment. For the past few years, these photos have joined thousands of others languishing on my external drive.

A couple of years ago, I started experimenting with image transfers to canvas. I wanted to find a way to pair old paper, torn book pages, advertisements, letters with my photos. Lots of reading, lots of experimenting and lots of YouTube videos later, I’ve found a method that I am trying to master.

It’s a relaxing past-time, from the hours spent in antique shops finding paper to sorting through those thousands of images and finding the right photo to pull together a collage. Then comes the paint and glue and textures … and I’ve found another way to tell a story.




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