I try to avoid stories. Last year I pulled into a meticulously manicured clay parking lot in a small town. As I got out to photograph a local came over and told me to leave without delay or I would be really sorry. The parking lot was actually a rolle bolle court (look it up like I had to), and my tire tracks had ruined it. Fortunately I left before the owner saw me. Hell, it really did look like a parking lot. Not my fault. Really. You could have made the same mistake. At any rate, the two photographs I did manage to take were blurry from a mis-set lens. One of those is included in this site, so if you happen upon it, take pity on me.

There are many other stories, and most of them stem from the fact that I am a stranger in the areas I am photographing. And most of the stories are bad, but not horrible. Some are nothing more that distrustful stares that last too long. I look like the predominant Northern European, but I am still a stranger with unknown intentions.

Usually I try to avoid people while I travel and photograph. Not because the are unfriendly, but quite the opposite. Given free reign to visit with locals, I might have three or four photographs under my belt by now. One thing leads to another and before long I am on the extended tour. Which is really interesting, but another project.