I realize that fog might be an odd thing to love, since most people seem to think of it as a weather inconvenience, a hindrance to an otherwise lovely day. But not me.
There’s just something mystical about fog. It’s secretive, deceptive, mysterious. It mandates myopia, immediacy. It asks questions, yields few answers, and I love that dynamic in photographs. The narrative always starts clearly enough but fades with distance, dissolving into shapes, discolorations, suggestions of form, eventually becoming gray nothingness.
Prints of most of these photographs can be ordered through my Stay Ordering Gallery.