Opening and Closing

 When I’m in my hotel room in Greece, Albania, Appalachia—wherever I travel to photograph— I cannot imagine being out meeting strangers. Asking people I don’t know, “May I take your photo?” In my room I’m like a worried clam—closed and shut tight. Nothing is possible. 

Then I hop in my Jeep and drive. The landscape begins to seduce me as meadows, rivers, mountains bathed in light pass across my windshield. A person comes into view walking down Albania's National Road:  a man carrying a sickle balanced on his shoulder, a sheep fat with wool just behind him. I stop the car ahead and walk back. I ask and he says “Yes!”. The spell is broken. My clam shell flips open and the world and everything in it is mine.