I Spy

When I was a child, I spied on the men in my neighborhood coming home from work: getting off the 6:13 train wearing gray or brown suits, covered in winter in gray wool coats and Stetson hats.

I still spy on people, and now, as then, I like to stay invisible, but don’t much care if my cover is blown. Now I look at backgrounds as much as foregrounds, think of composition and light and expression, and, of course, snap the shutter.