I grew up in a home covered in historic photos from folks like Adams, Cartier-Bresson, and Kertesz. But to be honest, I was more interested in the nudes. Maybe it would be better to cop to it and just admit that I was a horny teen boy and these were sexy to me; I was well aware that I couldn’t go to a 7–11 and buy a Playboy magazine but I could sit around my living room and look at any number of naked bodies photographed by Ruth Bernhard, Jerry Uelsmann, Lucien Clergue, Harry Callahan, Ed Weston… as a teenager…

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Hey everyone!

This is me: I have been a photographer for more than 40 years, a writer for fewer, a long time resident of the Bay Area, but moments away from a big move to Santa Fe, New Mexico.

When I was a kid, I was a young protégé of Jerry Uelsmann; his surreal images were everywhere around me. I’ve never been a professional photographer; I’d say I’m a professional amateur — and spend my time evangelizing photographic exploration for consumers. Some of my work these days involves managing a large photographic collection of classical works of midcentury modernism.

When I was 16, a group of friends and I took a summer road trip to Alaska. We piled into an RV and we drove from Salt Lake City, through British Columbia and the Yukon, and into the largest state in the union.

Eventually we found ourselves camping in Mt McKinley National Park (as it was called back then). We were excited to see the largest mountain in the continent, sitting at 20,300 feet. They say that it’s so foggy in the park that the mountain is only visible a few days a week, but ten teenaged boys were going…