1988 1

There’s something very disappointing to me about the pictures I took this year, the best part (a very small part) of which follows. On the year’s good side, I’d been hired as the senior editor of Modern Photography magazine, beginning work with a fantastic group of people, none of whom I’ll ever forget, and greatly expanding my knowledge and experience of cameras and film.

For some reason though, and maybe simple as a natural plateau after five years of improving work, this year’s pictures lack a great deal of interest and surprise. The regular editorial gig kept me indoors on days I’d otherwise spend at large in the city. I was stuck too living in a dark loft that never quite worked out well as a studio.

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