Images are stopped moments, paused, silenced and visible in the near future. They are moving birds, hidden in the branches of time, but they are there, if we listen and see clearly. My approach is quiet. My hope is to capture these tiny moments in a visual image, before they hear my footsteps crunching on the leaves as I come upon them, before they have a chance to fly away.
“I was eating in a Chinese restaurant downtown. There was a dish called Mother and Child Reunion. It’s chicken and eggs. And I said, I gotta use that one.”
My step-father Bob was my knight. Along he came, in my 6th year, in his swanky tan suits with their fancy stitched pockets, and his clean, gas-filled, Cheerio-free Toyota. He came along with his quirky smile, and the little brown mole near the corner of his nose, and scooped up my mother and I straight up off our feet and straight into the booths of beautiful-smelling restaurants and sweet boutique hotels. I’ve been in love with them ever since; I’ve even chosen places to live because the hallways looked like hotels.
I discovered the exquisite food and crazy-lovely boutique hotels of the Costa Brava region of Spain, and I can’t stop thinking about the pretty yellow sauces and foamy white dessert puddings. Gorgeous places make for happy photographers and even happier eaters. If ever your feet find you near Costa Brava, stick them in a clean Toyota and drive tout-suite into the arms of the sumptuous cuisine of Catalonia.