I made this image on my family farm back in Oklahoma. It is at the top of a hill that overlooks a valley, and is one of my favorite spots in the entire world.

I came upon this ivy vine with a spiderweb on it just as the last light of the day was falling on it.

I was driving by this old church with this glass brick cross in the wall that was being torn down. It was an overcast day, and I didn’t have my tripod with me, but stopped to photograph it anyway. I took many photos only one was clear enough to use, due to the low light conditions that day. Later when I went back, the church was gone. So this image is one of my favorites I’ve ever done, and one of the most special.

An ice storm came through Oklahoma, and left everything encased. I was struck how the ice made something like rusty barbed wire seem otherworldly.

Made after an ice storm transformed rural Oklahoma into Narnia for a bit.

The geometry of the highlights contrasted against the organic forms of the dead leaves caught my eye.

I'm fascinated by what we abandon and discard.  Part of an ongoing series.

Bob’s Museum wasn’t actually a museum in the strictest sense. It was his house that he had spent decades transforming into art. I discovered that when I walked in his front door one day, thinking it was open to the public, and he was just watching tv with his wife. He was kind enough to give me a tour and let me photography whatever I wanted.

It always amazes me how often I find people have taken mannequin forms apart and reassembled them.

I think the title is self explanatory.

This is at a glass recycling plant in Okmulgee Oklahoma, and it was one of the most amazing looking places I’ve ever seen. It’s like being on another planet.

When I first came upon this place, I was in the process of trying to sneak in, when the people who worked there saw me and just invited me in, camera and all. This image always reminds me of the song Suboceana by The Tom Tom Club.

This is literally a mountain of glass. The entire time I was in this amazing place working, I could hear glass shifting and falling, and so there was a constant musical tinkling sound surrounding me.

It never fails to astound me how much stuff we throw away. There was literally every color of glass bottle in this giant hill of glass that you could possibly imagine.

I’m not sure if the building was already there and was gradually consumed by broken glass, or if they built it later, and the glass piled up, but it was striking to see in person.

Inside the building from the previous image. It was unsettling, like at any moment the glass was going to come rushing in and bury everything with it.

I never quite understood why they left the building there in the middle of all of this broken glass. It felt like the structure was defiant, despite knowing that ultimately it would lose and be consumed.

It’s always interesting to me that some people choose to take what they find, and transform their homes into art with it, live with it. Bob was such a person. Every Inch of his house was an art exhibition.

Quite simply, my Dad’s tractor. I must have seen it a thousand times, and one day I saw it with new eyes.

I looked up, and noticed that the gentleman standing in front of the Giacometti sculpture looked as if one of the statues had come to life. I wanted to ask him to pose by it, but couldn’t quite figure out how to tell him he looked like the art to me, so settled for this image.

I loved the shadows on the sidewalk and how the mural looked almost like somebody had parked their bike in front of giant sea anemone.

I will sometimes take a camera right out on the subway and nobody seems to mind. I noticed her face was completely obscured by the way the light was falling and how striking that was.

I happened to be the only other person on the train that day, and thought the way the light was hitting this rider, it made her almost look like a silhouette painting from the 19th century.

New York City had a such a massive blizzard, we had to crawl over this giant pile of snow just to get out of the subway. The shapes of passengers trying to navigate it was fascinating to me.

I looked over, and saw this clothesline with clothes on it and the light made it look like a Renaissance painting. The owner of the back yard saw me peeking over the fence and let me take some photos. I’m always surprised when people let do that.

I was leaving on a bus, and noticed the light streaming in on the side of that bus. Out of nowhere this man appeared and made this shot something else entirely. I’m not sure how else to explain it.

Simply one of things I see when walking around New York City. It made me feel like she was at the door of an old speakeasy and I was being asked for the password.

The quality of the light and the reflections caught my eye. It looks almost like a surrealist painting.

I’ve never not been fascinated by shadows falling on walls. And in New York City, shadows fall across interesting art. I almost feel like these are messages in code, that I can’t quite comprehend.

I was safe and warm on the bus, and looked out and saw the bright umbrellas in the dim overcast light and folks struggling to move and stay as dry as they could. It almost looks like something painted by one of the artists from the Left Bank in the early 20th century.

The door at the end of the corridor had dim security light on the other side, and so I used my flash and aimed it at various points along the wall to paint in detail. This is one of those images that I never would have been able to duplicate.

An old building on my family’s farm back in Oklahoma. Some of my favorite images have been shot under conditions where there was little light and I was required to stand stock still holding my camera as tightly as I could.

A corner of a building called the Noble Center at Oklahoma State University. A theme with me has always been shadows on walls. The angle of the shot along with the light give this a real surrealist edge.

The lattice work with the light streaming through made something as simple as a vacuum hose for a swimming pool take on an entirely different aura. It almost seems as if it is reaching out of the frame.

I’ve always noticed the stuff that everybody walks past every day. A simple hook for hanging a towel takes on a different quality when seen in black and white and accented by highlights on the wall around it.

I thought these simple hooks for hanging towels or bathing suits almost seemed like fingers, beckoning to look over them at the amazing clouds swirling overhead.

The first thing that comes to mind about this image, is that I like to combine hard geometric lines with organic forms. It is a constant theme in my photographic work.

My grandmother kept this ratty old broom around for sweeping leaves off the stoop and sidewalk. She found a use for everything, and never got rid of stuff even after it had frayed around the edges years ago. All I ever had to do was set up my camera and not move a thing to capture artistic images around her place.

I was always fascinated by this door that went into a utility closet at my Nannie’s house. Nothing much was in that closet, but the door with the blinds and the beat up doorknob always seemed like there should be something amazing behind it. But nope. I always loved the door though.

My grandmother grew dipper gourds and always had them around various places at her house. These hung in front of the window on her utility porch, and I always thought they looked amazing.

My grandmother, Nannie, had so many interesting looking things that always seemed like art pieces just all over the place at her house. These garlic buds were in a cool vase, on an old trunk with beautiful light streaming over them.

My grandmother really hated being photographed. To say it made her angry is an understatement of an understatement. So I spent a lot of time photographing the things she loved and kept around her house. This ironing board probably dated back to the 1940s and was very much her. Right down to her keeping it in a spot where the light hit it in a way that made it look like art.

My grandmother had this scrawny rose bush, or vine rather, since I was a kid. The afternoon light always made it look more mystical than it was. But it was always there. I’m really grateful I was able to capture this photo of it playing in the light and shadow.

The shapes and crooked angles can tell a story depending on who sees them. Once again, I’m drawn to organic shapes and geometric lines.

I spent so much time photographing this old door and it told a different story every time I pointed my camera at it. The building it led into is long gone, but the stories are still here.

This was an old shack that was on a piece of land my family bought that adjoined the farm. It always seemed to me the building was something out of another time, so I made this image to reflect that idea.

I saw these plastic chairs that were sitting in front of an old barbershop that had gone out of business. Waiting on customers that were never going to show up.

I’ll always notice the abandoned and forgotten items that people don’t want anymore. I can’t help but wonder why they can’t quite bring themselves to get completely rid of things, why they can’t quite take that last step throw it away.

The shadows seem to be reaching for something, I’m not sure what, though. This was the old shack my family bought that I was always fascinated by.

A row of old rural route mailboxes in the small community where I grew up in Oklahoma. They always seemed to be out of another time.