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Unlike many of my contemporaries I've pursued the art of photography in relative anonymity for the past thirty plus years. True, I've had flashes of appreciation that energized my quest for expressive fulfillment. First there was a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship in Photography, and publication by the Arthur M. Sackler Gallery at the Smithsonian. Though in my heart, it was legendary diarist Anais Nin's insight and unconditional understanding that evoked the artist in me. I can not deny the simple truth, that of all of the artist friends and admirers in Anais's long life she paused, sensing the end near, to write to me just once more, in her flowing penmanship.
When she first visited my barren 1972 San Francisco apartment, in her sweeping black velvet dress to see my photographs, she hesitated in the doorway and smiled, "Ah, a home without upholstery". We corresponded through that year and at one point she told me I was the "poet photographer". She asked her lawyers to prepare permissions for me to use words from her books to accompany my photographs. Acknowledging the beauty of one's own Self is neither swift nor easy.
Suddenly, thirty years pass. Its time to open the windows and let appreciation have its way with these images, in your imagination.
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