"I don’t take pictures; pictures take me."
- Epilogue to "TRAVELOG", 1973

"The Yucatan is a gentle place: less frantic and hidden than the big cities of the world. My days in Merida lounged from plaza to Café Express to market to plaza to Café Express --- all in four short blocks. Sometimes, I drove to a ruin or the beach.

I think I was seduced by Mayan notions of progress: that time is cyclical; things don’t get better and better day-by-day, they just swirl around like dust in the street. Mostly, the pictures remind me of the small, northern New Jersey towns where I grew up.

Maybe, because I’m short and stocky, I felt at home: most  Mayans past first blush tend to be chunky, so Merida is a city of chubby cops and chubby robbers, chubby Romeos and chubby Juliettas. I was the tallest man around. Maybe, just maybe, I was once a Mayan."
- "PROGRESO," 1985

"When I started out, I used photography as a way of measuring my country and the life I was born into, a New Jersey boy only ten badges short of Eagle Scout.  I worked as a photojournalist for twenty-five years.  The kinds of stories I chose to do I later realized were mostly about American myths.  I photographed small towns, immigrants, the barrio in New York and then the enormous changes that came with the Sixties.

But maybe I had a sell-by time, an expiration date for being a witness.  In the early Seventies, I started questioning this reportage for myself.  A host of manipulators had so corrupted and warped public events, I could no longer trust the authenticity of what I was seeing. 

Gradually my pictures became more about what I experienced in my day-to-day wanderings and not so much about subject.  They started to be about the shapes and forms I was seeing and drawn to, suggesting content different from their subject matter.

Photography for me, when I’m working well, is all point and shoot.... But what I like best is that however the picture was made, it’s a surprise to me when I see the photo come up in the developer."