A brother of mine, I have many, once told me he would no longer shoot baskets in the alley behind our house, citing the need to master his shot through visualization and practicing form, not actual shooting. He learned this approach after learning that Jerry West, a Hall of Fame basketball player and owner of a beautiful jump shot, applied similar techniques.

My camera, and me, have suffered similar distractions, staying apart for long stretches, interrupted by life, and big ideas, but very little actual shooting.

I’m better now, or try to be. I get out more often, inspired by nascent ideas, though not always certain where my uneven energy and need to wander will lead.

Decades in, my photographic voice continues to shift. As learned over a long working career, I drift when not trying new approaches, leading perhaps to, well, a certain mastery avoidance. My pictures maintain a certain stylistic sensibility, yet I resist working within one genre. Mostly, I make pictures in black and white, though like a kindergartner with a new box of crayons, I’m haphazardly energized by color. My photographs seek to tell stories, as shown in my ongoing Long Home project, an oral history of Vietnam War veterans more than a half century home from war.

More often these days, I walk along city streets, gravitating away from the center toward empty spaces, decay and renewal, light and shadow, and the mundanity of daily life. There are moments too - I wish there were more - when I’m drawn to people, faces, strangers. These moments often get derailed however, as seen in my human avoiding Still Life project.

My best pictures, more often than not, are neither tack sharp nor technically perfect. I rarely deploy complex lighting, tripods, fancy gadgetry, or sophisticated editing tools, though not for lack of trying. Technically speaking (ask my wife) I’m a pathetically slow learner, yet vow to keep trying.