I don’t remember when it first struck me as critical. To my eye, the light must have glowed, the shades of hue must have been on fire. Thick layers of pigment, piled on sweetly.

“A quality of light, a tone,” says John Steinbeck, describing a mood or feeling in a scene drenched in morning sun; Gobs of golden rays, deep ocher and red, the rust of early morning light, consumed in the flames of a rising sun.

This idea of color, this concept of richness and vibrancy has been the forefront of my artistic endeavor for some years.  An epic scale, a gracefulness, even subtle color is to me breathe, as others might breath.

My aim is that of simplicity, but in its dullness, perhaps, lies a deeper dilemma. Challenge the idea of color for others. Challenge the way its perceived, the way it pushes meaning to an image.

It may seem yet, that color is a superficial entity, but my purpose here is to erase that notion. Life devoid of color would be a gray hell, and as such, photos, without hue, would be as lifeless.

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