I write not about the river the way she was, I write about the way she is. Now. At the very moment my shutter clicked; in this briefest of moments, captured frozen in time on glossy photo paper, there are echos of eternity ringing off her banks. When I left fine dining I didn't know if I could actually cook without the collaborative process of the kitchen that fostered my best work, but I see now that it was the informed feedback that was missing. When I look towards my work now I see that I am trying to create an environment around me that enables creativity to spring forth unbidden. For me that style of creative practice is not one that is learned but more of a sort of unlearning, for me presenting as a stubborn refusal of conformity as a child. My creative practice allows me to understand both myself and the world better. It forces me to slow down in the amazing places I seek and to allow myself to live in the moment, When photographing, usually as I scramble under branches through puckerbrush and down muddy slopes, with my DSLR clutched high in my hand, with me taking care not to get the lens dirty or scratched. And in the process of doing this work (which I must do alone, ironically), I find the most unusual perspectives, ones that help me live within myself and to see the world for what it truly is, a wonderful abundant rich existence.